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auteurdelabre · 4 months

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DARE TO SURRENDER (Part 5/6) (series) JAVIER PENA x f!Reader

DARE TO SURRENDER: Javier Pena x f!reader

Words: 8.8

summary: You and Brad hit up the club for date night, you’re shocked to find a jealous Javier already there.

A/N: Next chapter is the last and I'm gettin' real sad about saying goodbye to these two. Lemme know your thoughts, whadja like best?

masterlist here

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Chapter 5

Javier stays away from you the next day. He has to because he doesn't feel like himself. And it's not just because of the way you'd slept over, not even just in the gentle kiss you'd pressed against his lips before leaving that had him hard and aching long after you'd left.

It's the apology.

He can't stop thinking about your eyes, so serious as you gazed up to him. Your body snuggled to his, your hand over his sternum. The action had felt loving.

"I'm sorry."

You've never apologized to Javier for anything. Not even when you've been in the wrong. Not even when you spilled coffee all over the IT dossier, you'd just snapped that Javier shouldn't have left his half full coffee cup so close to your elbow.

And what's more concerning is Javier's reaction to the apology. He'd felt it, that sensation of intimacy you both strive to avoid. The way he'd stroked your face, wanting to take away the anxiety resting there.

"I know, baby."

Why did he let you sleep over? Why didn't he just tell you to go, gently urging you out the door like he does with all the others? Why did it feel so good to sleep out there on his shitty sofa with you?

He doesn't want to dwell on that, of the feelings that come with remembering how perfectly your body felt against his.

He decides that this is just what comes of fucking someone so well. Other things can be denied, but the way your body's respond to each other cannot.

And now he's fucked you, seen your body, made you come and now it's time to move on. The chase is over. There's a new secretary who's been giving him the eye. Full-hipped with sweaters that cling to every curve. She'll do nicely.

He doesn't meet your eyes the next morning at work. You don't seem to notice. You're so stuck on "Brad" that you barely spare a glance for Javier anymore.

////

Yesterday you'd stumbled into work late after dashing home from Peña's to shower and get ready for the day. Steve had been back, sniffling but focused. Javier had been distracted by his own research, and the two of you hadn't really interacted.

That had felt like the right move, the logical step. Waking up in his arms had made you feel confused and a little anxious. Everything you know about Javier is through your own limited experience and what you've over heard from other women around the embassy.

Brad had distracted you so easily from those thoughts though. Sauntering into the office with a gentle hello osita* and a broad smile on his handsome face. He'd brought you a coffee just the way you take it.

He'd suggested a walk during your lunch break and you'd readily accepted. Once off the property of the embassy Brad had pulled you against him, kissing deeply, pulling apart only when a man on a bike threw you both a wolf whistle.

But you'd wanted more. You would have fucked him in the washroom of the cafe next door. Would have ridden him in his car. But Brad would never expect that of you. He would never suggest it. You're both still new, still learning.

Have you always been like this? So impatient and risky? Or did it start with Peña and his insatiability?

Peña.

Jesus, the other night had felt good. His body speaks to yours in a way that no other has. It has nothing to do with his personality which you find disg-

Well. Actually ... On second thought Javier has been much more pleasant lately. Snippets of the last few weeks go through your head. Him doing your paperwork, the suit, making you laugh, the kindness in his eyes, the fullness of his mouth. He's not so annoying these days. Even sleeping in his arms while strange hadn't felt entirely terrible. Just confusing.

But today after Brad and his sweet kisses you're feeling relaxed, even playful. Murphy is in a meeting with Carillo and Javier has just walked in and he must be tense because he's already puffing away on a cigarette.

You wait for him to bring you the coffee that he has done every day for the last month. When he doesn't you decide you're in such a good mood, you'll be the coffee girl today.

You make up his coffee,( black with half a scoop of sugar) and make your way to his desk. He's facing away from you, but at the sound of your heels over the linoleum you watch his broad shoulders tense.

"Thought you'd want one," you offer, nudging the white Styrofoam cup towards him on his desk.

"Had one on my way to work," Javier mumbles, not looking up at you, his head dipped as he makes frantic notes in scrawled writing. "Thanks anyway."

You feel slighted but you nod, taking the cup with you as you depart back to your desk. You feel an icy chill coming from him as he continues taking notes, his attention firmly wherever you are not.

"You mad at me or something Peña?" You tease airily, organizing the folders on your desk.

You say it casually but there's a real concern there simmering under the surface. The antagonistic yet playful relationship that you two shared seems to be diminishing. And that thought makes you feel cold, increasing when Javier just rasps over his shoulder at you without turning.

"Just busy."

"That's a first," you say trying to bait him. "You actually doing work."

You wait for his snarky reply, for his knowing smirk as he bites back with something.

But all you're left with is a long stretch of silence and his shoulders squared and tensing.

This goes on for the rest of the week. All the banter, the flirtation, the casual touches are gone, taken from you.

It makes the days go by slowly and it makes them feel awful. You didn't realize how much you'd gotten used to Javier's presence at your desk, the sly winks, the way he smiles when he makes you laugh.

Now it feels cold here in the office and more sterile than it ever did.

You suppose that's what makes you act out of character Friday morning. Peña has always been the pursuer, the one teasing. But today you want to see his little smirk, you feel almost desperate for any reaction from him.

You're sitting at your desk, one hand propped under your chin, the other gently twisting a pencil between your first three fingers.

You can't stop looking at Javier's back. He's started doing this, moving the typewriter on his desk so he doesn't have to look in your direction.

"Hello? You listening?"

You drag your attention from the back of Javier's lean neck and over to Murphy who's desk currently buttresses yours.

"Sorry, I missed it, what?"

"I said Connie wants to know if you wanna come over for dinner next week."

"Of course," you say with a forced smile. "Gonna be a big party?"

"Nah just a catch up," Murphy says stacking a cigarette between his lips. "Says I'm not social enough."

"Well. . . " You trail off, giving him a meaningful look accompanied by a smirk.

"Yeah, yeah fuck you," Murphy replies with a wide grin. "Bring that guy you're seeing."

"Sure."

You both turn when Peña calls over his shoulder without looking at you.

"You got those photos? Ones from the last debrief?"

Murphy tilts his chin in your direction. Peña is talking about your photos. You take a sharp inhale.

"Yeah, one sec."

You feel a bit strange walking over to Peña since his back is to you. It feels strange to have him so obviously ignoring you. It makes that competitive part of you surface, the need to make him interact with you. The need to make him smile for you.

You stand next to Peña's desk, your eyes darting to Murphy. He's gone back to his file and now it's Murphy who has his back to you.

Your eyes dart back down to Javier still willfully ignoring you. You want his eyes on you, crinkling into a smile or blown wide with desire. You don't care, you just want them on* you.

"Here you go," you say dropping the folder onto his desk. He nods, still not looking up at you. He's typing quickly, forefinger working madly over the keys.

Look at me.

With a pounding heart you tilt forward, your hands placed at the edge of the desk. You drop your voice to a husky whisper heard only by Peña.

"I hope they're helpful, papi."

You watch with satisfaction as his eyes blow wide and fingers slip clumsily over the keys, making a mistake in the notes he's been making.

"Fuck."

His mouth looks especially kissable today. You want to see it curved into a smile for you. You love his smile, the way that little dimple pops up on his right cheek. But he still doesn't look up at you.

Look at me.

He hears your silent plea. Dark, endless eyes weave from your hip up your body in a lazy trail that lingers over your chest before ending on your face.

Murphy excuses himself to grab something from down the hall but neither of you even notice. When the door closes you move closer and lean your hip against Peña's desk, looking down at him. It feels thrilling acting like this in work, teasing Javier for once.

He's staring up at you, his mouth parting when your hand goes to stroke along his shirt collar.

"You look tense," you say slow and syrupy. "Need to release some of that tension, baby."

His eyes lose their dreamy quality the second the pet name leaves your mouth. He tilts back in his chair, out of your reach.

"How's Brad?"

The accusation in his eyes makes you jerk backwards. You shift away from leaning on the desk, arms crossing.

"Uh, fine."

"You dating? It official?" Javier's voice holds a sneer. "Figure you must be close to it, knowing you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You like security," Javier says lighting a cigarette. "You like a plan. Brad's perfect for that. Bet he's already looking a white picket fences back in whatever corn-fed slum he comes from."

So much vitriol is spewing from him. You take another step back from him, your brows sharp.

"Wha-" you’re blinking rapidly. "Why are you saying that?"

"You think your future husband would enjoy knowing what we did the other night?" Peña asks smoothly, taking a long drag from his cigarette, the item looking dwarfed in his long fingers. "Or that you're here throwing yourself at me?"

He exhales slowly, letting the smoke curl around his lips, drifting insouciant in your direction.

"Throwing myself at you?" You scoff, your entire face turning so red it feels like it's burning.

And future husband? You haven't even been on a real date with Brad! But Javier's face is like a storm cloud, dark and moody.

You weren't expecting it to hit so hard. Wasn't ready for the way his clear derision would not only embarrass you but also hurt your feelings.

"Fuck you, Peña."

Another deep drag from his cigarette.

"Already did."

You spin away, your legs carrying you out of the office. You refuse for him to see you cry.

///

Javier feels sick to his stomach. He's never been cruel like that, not to you. You've never deserved it. You didn't deserve it today but he panicked.

He can't have you near him.

He doesn't know why but he feels prickly. He doesn't understand why, but every time you walk by him smiling and serene he's fucking furious.

How can you have done what you have with Javier and then walk around like you're not confused? Are you really so immune to emotion that you don't recognize that something has shifted? Or has it only shifted for him?*

He thinks of your finger dragging along his collar, the feel of your digit grazing his throat. Fuck.

Need to release some of that tension, baby.

You know how he feels about the term. You know he's attracted to you so why do it? For attention? To tease him?

How can you look at him like you do while Brad is waiting in the wings?

And why can't he stop thinking about you? Not just your body moving over his but the way your eyes squint when you laugh, the smell of your hair, the way your body felt tucked up next to his.

Fuck.

He needs to talk to you. Needs to apologize for what he said. It was so awful and ugly. He can't have you walking away thinking he meant any of it.

///

You feel your eyes brimming with tears, your steps uneven as you make your way down the hall.

Fuck Javier Peña.

You'd known he was an asshole. You'd seen the trail of broken hearts he left in his carnal wake. But you'd thought you were safe, thought that since

But here you are, crying over him anyway.

It's still early in the morning, the hallway isn't that busy and you think you can make it to the bathroom before the tears fall.

You move quickly down the hall, your heels clacking as you round the corner.

"Mornin' gorgeous."

You look up to see Brad approaching you from the opposing hall. Seeing his bright, smiling face makes it easy for you to blink the tears back, shooting him a watery smile. When he gets closer he sees the tears dotting your lash line.

"Wait, you okay?"

"Just a headache."

"Awww poor osita," Brad clucks, bringing you into a side hug. You told him you don't want to be too demonstrative at work, but after how Peña treated you, you curl into him.

"You really okay?"

"Yeah," you assure him. You don't want him to see you upset. You still barely know one another.

Brad is stroking your hair behind your ear. It's such a sweet and innocent gesture. Something Peña would-

Stop thinking about Javier fucking Peña!

Javier Peña is the last person you want to think about right now. He's cold eyes and grim mouth having you feeling sick to your stomach.

A quick glance tells you that you and Brad are alone in the hallway and in a moment of defiance you grip him by the collar and drag his face to yours.

You feel so out of sorts, so agitated by what's happened that you need it to go somewhere. Brad kisses you back immediately, no hesitation.

Your arms crawl up his shoulders, holding to him as he kisses you, his hands slung over your waist and then moving to your the globe of your ass, curling and pulling you tight against him. You're not expecting that. You'd wanted comfort not aggressive carnality. His pelvis is tight against yours.

"Shouldn't," you say, frozen to the spot at Brad nuzzles your neck before he nods, shaking his head as if coming back to himself.

"You're right," he says with a short laugh. But his hands are still on you and you don't feel like you can back up.

"Wowee," comes a voice from behind you. You and Brad jump apart, cheeks stained red. Murphy is walking by, giving you a quick wink.

"Well that's one way to pass the time," Murphy grins. His eyes move down the hall. "Eh Peña?"

Peña?

You jerk your head to follow Murphy's gaze and see Javier glaring at you and Brad from down the hall.

He's standing looking as if he was in mid stride. He gives a derisive shake of his head at you and then he's gone.

///

Javier is furious. Fucking seething.

He's scissoring his legs down the hallway, cigarette smoke trailing behind him like he's become some fury-fueled train.

Images of you and Brad tangled together. Murphy smiling and laughing and shooting Peña a wink that says 'finally our girl is letting loose!' like it doesn't take the breath from Javier's body just to see it.

Since when do you start making out in the middle of the embassy? What happened to that "professionalism above all things" mantra you threw at Javier time and time again?

Or is that only reserved for men you fuck for fun?

He wants to punch a wall. He wants to scream. He wants to fuck someone, anyone. He needs to expel this horrible clawing agitation from his body.

"Hola Javier."

Rosalia, the newest secretary. The one with the tight sweaters and great tits. Her tits are even better than yours. Fuck you and Brad and all that shit that makes him feel so inferior, so vulnerable.

"Hola bonita," Javier purrs, because this is familiar, this is good. When Rosalia blushes prettily under his gaze he knows that this is inevitable.

This is what he does. This is all he knows.

///

"Ugly," you tell yourself in the mirror Friday after work.

You're holding up a black dress that you'd brought with you from home. It had seemed so cool, so chic but now it just looks tacky. Ugly.

Brad will be here to pick you up soon. You've cleaned your humble apartment, put new sweet -smelling sheets on the bed. The dishes are stacked and drying and you've just shaved every part of you that men assume should be hairless, rolling your eyes at the thought.

Now you stand with mascara-rimmed eyes and deep red lips looking at the dress you thought would work so well for tonight.

It's slutty, you decide. You don't dress slutty because that's not you. You like conservative, not because it covers but because it makes you feel stronger, more confident.

But men like Brad want flesh. They want handfuls of ass and tits. They want hands over skin and the clap of bodies fucking hard and fast. But now you know you like it slow and deep and sensual.

Without meaning to your back on that couch in Javier's apartment, rocking slowly against him in a way that feels like caring not competition.

Is my girl feeling good?

His girl. Javier's girl. What would it be like to be Javier's girl? And then his eyes, his big beautiful night-sky eyes.

I know, baby.

"Stop," you murmur to yourself. "Fucking stop."

You’re self sabotaging yourself. You don't want Javier Peña. You want Brad, a man who treats you nicely, a man who doesn't play games.

You pull on the dress and you fluff your hair and you internally repeat that this is a Peña -free night. You're looking forward to getting with Brad, to dancing and drinking enough to give you the courage to invite him back here. To take him to your bedroom with its freshly made bed and-

Is my girl feeling good?

"Fucking stop!" You shout at the air in front of you. You will not waste another thought on Javier Peña.

///

"So how long have you worked with Peña?"

For fuck's sake.

You sit sullenly across from Brad and three of his colleagues. Apparently dinner and dancing wasn't just an invitation for you, but for an entire group. Brad is squished between two of them, his eyes on the food in front of him. He's dressed up, but his colleagues look like they just came from work.

"I don't work for him, I work with him."

One if Brad's friends, Mark you think his name is smirks over at Oliver.

"Is it true he hangs out at cat houses?"

"And sleeps with the prostitutes?"

Wide, shark smiles greet you from across the table. Leering faces, eager for the lurid and tantalizing. You don't understand how Brad is friends with them, or why he's smirking at them from behind his beer bottle.

"Peña is a really good agent," you say carefully. "His methods of Intel extraction are unconventional at times but . . . Effective."

Oliver and Mark exchange gleeful smiles. "That's a yes!"

You roll your eyes, sipping from your beer bottle and try not to sigh. This evening is not how you pictured it going.

An hour of watching Brad joke around with his colleagues and you've just about had it. He seems to sense this, excusing himself.

"Sorry boys, I owe this lovely lady a dance."

They bid you farewell, eyes on the ass of the passing restaurant hostess. You consider denying Brad, telling him you just want to go home but then he turns his charming smile on you and you consider that maybe just maybe there's been a misunderstanding.

"Sorry about that," he whispers in the cab on the way to the club moments later. "I told them we were going to dinner and they just asked to tag along."

"Right."

"Osita, don't be like that," Brad teases and you bristle. You don't like how the nickname sounds coming from Brad tonight. You force a smile, turning your attention out into the night that passes by your window.

///

Gusto the club is packed. All variety of beautiful people bump into you in the crowded and dimly lit space. There are booths full of couples kissing and fondling,

This is one of the few places that embassy staff seems to enjoy. You spot a few of the secretaries as you and Brad move through the gyrating throngs of people on the dance floor. You thought you'd grab a table first but Brad pulls you into his arms, insisting on a quick dance first. You agree, even though you're still a bit prickly about dinner.

Brad smiles down at you, pulling you tightly against him and grinding slightly against your pelvis. You're not a fan of this kind of dancing, not used to the over familiarity of the dance moves.

You like Brad but there’s something about tonight that feels off. You hadn't enjoyed the way he was with his friends. You don't enjoy the way he keeps brushing his hands along side of your breasts when you dance even after shifting away from the motion.

You don't feel comfortable.

"Hey I'm a bit warm," you call up to him over the music. "I'm just gonna get a drink."

"I'll join you," Brad calls back.

I wish you wouldn't.

You take a deep breath; hand in Brad's as you move through the pulsing crowd. The music is intense and heavy on the beat. The room is warm and you feel overheated, your hair sticking to the back of your neck.

When you finally make it to the bar, Brad tells you to hold tight as he walks down to get the bartender’s attention. You smile wanly, wondering if you still want to take Brad home after all. He's a perfectly nice guy, tonight just might be an off -night. People are allowed to have off-nights.

You spin on the bar stool, spine against the bar nodding at the clusters of people mingling around you. Your eyes go to the dance floor, hoping to be entertained when you feel your mouth drop open.

You catch his shoulders first, moving smoothly under the flashing club lights, then his lean neck and he tilts forward and whispers something to his date before spinning them in the center of the dance floor in time with the music.

It's Javier Peña looking fucking delicious.

He's got his pale yellow button-up on, his jeans practically painted on. His hair is brushed back from his face and all you can think is how fucking good he looks dancing.

He's damp from dancing, breathing heavily. His neck is slick and his hair curls slightly at the back where it touches. All you can think is that he looks like he's just been fucked and well. Your pussy literally throbs at the sight.

He dances like how others walk, confidently and smoothly as if it's the most natural thing in the world. It's hypnotic at the very least the way his hips swivel.

You've never seen him move like that before outside the bedroom. Never seen his body move with that kind of languid grace outside of his naked body pressing into yours.

But he's there on the dance floor, his date against him as his one hand splays over her stomach, holding her tightly against his hips, the other holding a drink. And when he moves you think it must be only you who's never quite seen it before. The way he just exudes charisma and sexuality in every motion.

It's in the way he holds his mouth when he's amused or the way he pops his hip when he stands too long in one place. He doesn't try to be sexy, he just is. He's dancing with some woman in a tight dress, his hips loose as she rubs up against him.

He laughs at something says showing his pearly white teeth and adorable dimple. That pit of flesh where you want to press yo-

Wait what the fuck? What the fuck are you thinking about?

You notice how tightly his date moves against him, her arms around his neck as she leans the back of her head against his sternum. It makes your teeth grind. You recognize her as the new secretary from the embassy. She's beautiful with pouty lips and an amazing body.

She's looking up at Javier through low eyes, desire clearly reflected there. He's focused on her body and you watch as their hips grind against one another in pulse with the music.

You feel sick.

Why do you care how Javier dances? Who gives a shit if he's here? He's been nothing but horrible to you all week!

Her body moves so fluidly, you've never seen anything quite like it. Jealousy, sharp and acute stabs through you at the sight of his hands on her hips.

Why is he here with her tonight of all nights? Is he trying to torture you? Why all of a sudden? What happened to make him suddenly despise you?

It hurts.

Javier is grinding with his date, aggressively now. There's a thin sheen of sweat over both of them, over everyone in the club really. But Javier's highlights the length of his neck, the curl of his hair at the ends.

He's saying something to Rosalia and she's nodding, her hand going to cup his neck as she leans back against his chest. You can't help but watch struck dumb when you see Peña's eyes drifting over the crowd.

When they land on you, you can only watch as his wide hands move over her hips, pulling her tightly to him as he stares at you with hungry eyes that gobble you up as you sit there dumbstruck on the barstool.

His hands are on Rosalia's waist, pulling her back against his front more tightly as he watches you. You're sure that if he's hard she can feel it there at the small of her back.

Why does that make you so angry?

And is it just anger? Or is it something more? It hits you belatedly as you watch Rosalia's body move against his hips so beautifully.

It's arousal.

You're turned on watching Javier dance. Underneath the jealousy of him being with another woman is the overwhelming desire you have when you see him moving like that, his strong body loose and sensual.

She's turned now, facing him so that when they dance their pelvis' merge. You expect that Javier will look away now, but if anything he's looking at you harder. His hands begin to squeeze her ass as they move together under the flashing lights. You swallow, irritated when Peña flashes a slow wink in your direction.

Fuck this.

You push yourself off the stool, your heart in your throat. You pass Brad carrying back your drinks and tell him you're going to the washroom. He nods and tells you he'll find a table.

You move blindly through the dark club, desperate to be away from the crowd, away from Javier's suffocating gaze.

You find a single stall washroom empty, thankful for the privacy. You pull the door closed, balancing against it as the pounding music muffles behind you.

You take a deep breath, eyes shut. It smells like cleaning products and old air fresheners. You move to the counter, thinking if you get some cold water on your face it might help.

The door to the bathroom creaks open and you berate yourself internally for not locking it behind you.

"Sorry occu-" the words die on your tongue as Javier slides in, pulling the door behind him.

His eyes trail over the lowered collar of your dress, the short cut of it at your mid thigh and you balanced there over the sink.

"Peña, what the fuck-"

"Hi, baby. Having a nice night?"

You stare at him, again dumbfounded as his arms cross over his chest and he leans against the wall with his shoulder. You want to ask him again why the fuck he's in here with you, but a bigger question looms in your mind.

"Did you follow me here to Gusto?"

"You think you're the only person to go dancing, Osita?"

"I've never heard of you going to clubs. And you just so happen to show up to this one tonight?"

Javier forces a shrug. "My date wanted to dance, what can I say? Considering what waits for me tonight I was more than amenable."

"How exciting for you," you reply drily. He just smirks at you, that annoying know-it-all smirk that gets under your skin.

“You might want to invest in a condom before you get back out there," you say with a surly edge to your voice. "You two were practically fucking on the dance floor."

"Jealous?"

"Of you and Brain-dead Barbie out there?" You scoff. "Hardly."

"Judgemental," Peña observes sucking his teeth.

He watches you bent over the counter, your chest heaving. Your dress is tight, and short. You never wear shit like this and he can tell it makes you hesitant, insecure. He doesn’t like that about it. He does however enjoy how it outlines the swell of your breasts and ass.

He needs to taste you. It's not a want, it's a need. He knows you'd taste fucking perfect on his tongue. Flavorful and full. He licks his lips and catches himself only when your eyes shutter.

“So what are you doing in here, Peña ?”

"I'm here to collect," he tells you, his voice sharp but his eyes soft.

"Get the fuck out of here," you insist with a sneer.

"Or what?" He challenges drolly. "You'll get big, bad Brad to come kick my ass?"

For some reason the thought of Brad and Javier fighting flashes into your mind. And for whatever reason Javier is throwing a steady punch, his muscles rippling under his shirt, that intensity in his eyes as he sends Brad stumbling back. You swallow when arousal floods you at the unbidden image.

"I don't need anyone fighting my battles for me," you inform him, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Don't I know it," Javier muses, and the sharp quality to his voice is gone leaving nothing but gentle amusement.

"Javier what is this? You ignore me all week, you make eyes across the dance floor as you dry hump your date and now you follow me into the bathroom?" You look around at the small space with its toilet stall and stone sink, arms raised in supplication

"What the fuck do you want?"

You don't expect him to cross the small space and you certainly don't expect his large hand to come and cup your throbbing pussy in his palm, gathering both your dress and panties in one handful.

"I want this," Javier murmurs, his mouth inches from yours. "I want my mouth on it."

You hold in a whimper at the realization that he must feel how wet you are through your panties.

"W-why?"

"Because you've denied me twice and I'm owed."

You both know he doesn't mean it. That these words exist as an excuse for him to be here in your space. He looks down at you through half lidded eyes, brow raised. He doesn't move his hand, and you find you don't want him to. He waits, not moving a muscle. You realize it's because he's waiting for your next move. Will you reject him or surrender?

"Yes," you finally say with a shaky nod. "I owe you."

You don't miss the grin that he tries to hide when he turns from you, dropping his hand from your pussy. You watch him lock the door to the bathroom, your pulse spiking.

You make no attempt to move, you're still sort of shocked by it all. Brad is waiting for you, Javier's date is waiting for him and yet your here with Javier and you have no desire to be anywhere else.

His dark eyes slide over your face, hands coming to your waist. You exhale softly as Javier slides you onto the bathroom counter, your bottom hitting the cool stone.

His hands remain loosely around your waist a moment but they soon move to the front of your dress. You gasp when his hands tug down the front to reveal and then bring out your tits from their clothed confines.

The nipples tighten almost painfully fast, and before you can cover yourself Javier curls a palm around both, testing their weight and grinning wickedly when he pinches the nipples and you give a breathy groan.

"Maybe we shouldn't," you start to say weakly, stopping when you see Javier shoot you a pitying smile.

"You really wanna stop?"

"No."

He wants to laugh at how quickly you replied, but he doesn't want you to think he's mocking you.

"Lean back."

He hears you whimper, your eyes cast down your body to watch everything. One of Javier’s hands leads your thigh to one of his broad shoulders. He kisses the inside of that softest of skin, his dark eyes staring up at you as you pant, your cheeks flushed. You look wrecked and the sight has him rock hard.

He sees in your face how much you want this, the panting escaping your mouth in soft little huffs. And those eyes of yours? Fuck. Pupil almost taking over the iris, glittering up at him so obviously in desire.

"You look so good like this, Osita," he purrs, gaze roving your body slowly taking his time despite the urgency of the moment. "Always want you looking at me like that."

"Like what?" You breathe.

"Needy."

You are needy for him.

His hair is sweaty, stuck to his forehead. His shirt is damp around the collar from his dancing in the club and yet he's never looked so fucking good to you.

Already you’re soaked, arousal spreading between your thighs. You're almost terrified of how badly you want Javier right now. It feels overwhelming, all encompassing.

You can only watch as Javier's wide hands slide up your thighs. You can't look away from the sight of those beautiful, golden hands sliding up up up until they disappear under your skirt. His thumbs graze along your inner thigh.

"So soft," Javier observes, his lips barely see moving. His dark eyes are glazed and you wonder if he even knows he's just spoken out loud. His fingers hook around your panties, pulling gently. You shift your hips so he can pull them off with ease.

"Normally I'd take my time," Javier insists, his hands going to your knees and gently urging them apart.

You both sense the urgency, can hear the pulsing beat of the music outside. Knows that it's only a matter of time before someone wants to use this particular bathroom.

He smiles before gently pulling your knees apart. You let them fall open as he kisses up your thighs, inhaling deeply and groaning. You tremble, legs splayed for him on the counter. Your back is against the cool mirror, your hands gripping the stone under your hands the best you can. He pauses, uncertainty there in his eyes.

"You want my tongue?"

"Yes," you breathe, your thighs trembling around his head. "Please."

Javier sinks to a kneeled position before his muscled arms coil around your thighs, hefting your lower half into his grip and towards his mouth. You can only just see your pussy lips from this angle, peeking out from your bunched dress. But from Javier's angle he can see everything and he is fucking dazed. You're so wet, puffy and delicious looking.

"Need to taste you," he groans and his fingers dig into your flesh as his mouth descends.

Your head hits the mirror as you arch. His tongue trails a stripe between the lips he parts with his fingers, eager to explore. Your thighs tremble as his tongue delves, circling your clit with precision, his neck strained forward.

Javier has eaten plenty of pussy in his day. He knows he's good at it, he knows how women like it. Watching and hearing you come undone under his tongue however is like a holy experience. He doesn't even have to use his fingers. You're so responsive to him, each subtle movement makes you keen and whimper.

"Jesus," you murmur, eyes slamming shut. It's true, all the things the secretary's say about him. His tongue is deadly and only seconds in you feel your body twitching with pleasure.

Javier wishes he was raised up higher instead of kneeling between your legs on the floor. If he was higher he could watch you both in the mirror. The thought makes his cock twitch.

You cry out a strange ream of gibberish as he sucks your clit into his hot mouth. You weren't ready for that, weren't ready for the electric shock that takes your breath away. Your legs spread further, desperate to feel more, deeper as he works between your legs.

"That's it," Javier hums, voice muffled. "Just enjoy, baby."

"Mhmm," you moan, back arching as his flattened tongue licks a stripe up your dripping slot. "S-so fucking good."

Your eyes crack open just long enough to see Javier knelt between your legs, his normally coiffed dark hair falling over his forehead as he tastes you. He looks so peaceful, so gentle, so beautiful that it takes your breath away.

Javier grunts, mouth kissing your cunt expertly, his nose grazing your clit. His eyes are closed, surrendering to this moment. Nothing exists outside this room. No club, no Brad, no Escobar. Just you whimpering for his mouth.

There's a knock at the door, someone demanding something in Spanish. You twitch away from Javier's mouth, your eyes blowing wide.

"Ocupado," Javier shouts out frustration from between your legs. He sees the anxiety cross your features. "Ignore it."

You want to tell him this in insane, that he should stop but his mouth is back, giving sweet sloppy kisses to your cunt and you're boneless against him, giving soft little groans.

All of a sudden Javier feels your hand gently carding through his hair and he shivers. It feels so good being touched by you. He presses his teeth lightly against the sides of your pulsing pearl and smiles when your hand grips a fistful of his hair.

"Javi!" you cry out his name in a broken moan and all the hair on his body stands on end.

Hearing his name, an affectionate nickname coming from you in a tone that can only feel described as carnal has Javier concerned about arriving in his pants. Something he's never done before and doesn't intend on doing now.

You keep feeling yourself crest, your body being tugged into the pleasurable pull only for the noise of the club to distract you.

"C'mon pretty girl," Javier purrs as he pulls his mouth off you. "I can feel how close you are."

You think you hear someone outside talking in Spanish and you tense before you cant your hips aggressively against his mouth, head tilted back against the cold mirror. You want to come so badly, too much because you can feel it slipping away the more you focus on it. When it eludes you for the third time you give a breathy whine of frustration.

Javier can feel it, can sense the agitation going through you. You feel his mouth drift, kissing the crease of your thighs as you tense up.

"Baby, baby," Javier soothes, pressing gentle kisses to your inner thigh before raising his eyes to meet yours. "Slow down. Just let it happen."

"I'm so close," you whine, cheeks and chest flushed. "But it keeps going away because of the music and-"

"Just breathe, I'm gonna make you feel so good," Javier promises you, eyes soft. "Even if I'm here on my knees all fucking night. You're gonna come for me, osita. I'll make sure of it."

You feel a pull below your navel, your mouth going slack at Javier's husky declaration. He grins up at you, thumbs gently stroking your inner thighs. He gives you a wink, head going back between your thighs.

But suddenly you need him closer, your entire body desperate for him, not just his mouth. Right now he feels so far away. You push him gently back, taking in the confusion on his face.

"Want you inside me," you whisper sliding yourself off of the counter. Your feet hit the ground as Javier comes to a stand. You can tell that he's about to complain.

"Please," you whisper, your mouth finding his, tasting yourself on his mouth. "Need your cock tonight."

He slants his full lips against yours, groaning into your mouth at your words. You feel him hard between your legs and you cup him through his jeans. He grunts, mouth moving to your neck.

"Okay pretty girl," Javier relents. "I'll give you what you need."

You fumble with his belt, your body arching against him. He smiles down at you before gently twisting you away from him, bending you over the counter. His pants are tugged down over his hips and you hear the sound of a foil wrapper, thankful Javier came prepared.

You're still so wet from his mouth on you earlier that you take him with no problem, back arching and mewling with the pleasure that immediately floods you.

"Mhmmm," Javier groans against your neck before smiling as he watches you in the mirror. "There she is. Now my girl's feeling good isn't she?"

His girl. His girl.

"Yes," you pant, head back against his broad shoulder. His hand snakes down your front, fingers curling around the pearl of your clit, playing with you as he fills your pussy.

"You like this, baby?"

"Si papi," you breathe, not thinking. You don't see Javier's smirk in the mirrors reflection, but you do feel him swell within you, his hips bouncing your ass against him.

"Pretty girl likes being fucked in public," Javier grunts, his hands pinning your palms to the counter. "Pussy all wet for me isn't it?"

"Yes," you breathe through the thrusts

"He get your pussy this wet osita? Or is it just me?"

"Don't," you murmur, not wanting to think about Brad. All you want to think about is Javier Peña and how good he feels inside you.

"See how good you look taking me," Javier rasps, his hand loosely on the back of your neck. He gently urges your head up, forcing you to look at your reflection.

You look completely ruined. Hair wild and tousled, lipstick smudged, tits spilling out of your dress and jiggling with every thrust from Javier.

"So fucking pretty," Javier tells you, grazing your jaw with his mouth.

But soon it's not you that you stare at in the mirror, it's Javier. You catch his eyes in reflection, moaning as you watch. He's fucked out, hair tousled, mouth puffy as he thrusts into you. He looks so sexy, so fucking broad and masculine thrusting into you.

"You feel so good, baby," Javier moans, eyes closed as he loses himself in fucking you, his mouth moving without conscious thought. "No one feels as good as you."

You think of Sofia. Of the secretary Rosalia waiting for him outside and you wince.

"Not even your girls from-"

"No one," Javier interrupts before groaning, his forehead dropping between your shoulder blades as he saws in and out of you. "This pussy was made for my cock."

You don't know why but this causes fresh arousal to flood you. His fingers come to your clit, dancing there, teasing you. For some reason he can’t stop thinking about the way you smile at Brad. The way you light up when that boring bastard enters a room. And yet, Javier observes with dark satisfaction, it’s him fucking you right now while stupid fucking Brad sits in the club oblivious.

"Bet Brad's cock doesn't make you feel like this."

"Stop,” you moan twisting from him. You want to keep this light and fun. You've already slept over at Javier’s place by accident. You don't need to keep playing with fire. Especially when you know this is just a game for him.

“He make you come like I do?" Peña demands against your ear, hot and breathy. "Tell me."

"Haven't fucked him," you groan without thinking. Your forehead lowers to press against the cool stone counter as his pace quickens. You don't see the way his eyes grow wide, his mouth curving.

"Why?"

"Enough," you breathe, feeling your climax building.

"Is it because you only wanna fuck me?" Javier asks, his voice shaking as his pace increases. You can hear the lewd sound of your flesh smacking together over the music. "You only want my cock pretty girl?"

"Javi," you groan, both chiding him and encouraging him to keep fucking you. Javier wants to press you for more information. Wants you to say what he's hoping your suggesting. But he can feel the tug at his lower belly and knows he has no time.

"You gonna come for me?"

Your eyes jerk to his in the mirror and he catches them. He's wild, his eyes bright and blazing, his full mouth puffy from your kisses and your cunt and you feel yourself unravel.

"Yes," you cry out, arms reaching behind you. For some reason it feels very important that Javier kiss you right now.

It feels necessary.

Your hand reaches behind to his neck, tugging his head forward and tilting your face so he can kiss you from behind. He does this without hesitation, his mouth finding yours and groaning. He doesn't stop his ministrations below and you buck into his hand, urging his cock further.

"Want you to come," you whisper against his mouth, jolting as he thrusts. "Need it, baby."

"Gotta come for me first," Javier murmurs against your parted lips, inhaling your whimpers. "Gotta come on my cock right now, pretty girl."

You do. As if just by saying those words he's unlocked something within you. He watches in the mirror as your head jerks back onto his shoulder, neck thrown back and eyes squeezed shut as your pussy milks his cock. He follows seconds later, emptying himself inside you as he grips your body to him.

After a moment you two break apart, Javier slipping his softened cock from you and disposing of the condom. You both are breathing heavily and you tuck your dress over your bare tits, feeling strangely cold.

What did you just do? Brad is sitting outside. Rosalia is probably wondering where her date is. And you two have been fucking like wild animals in the middle of a club washroom. It makes your cheeks flame to think of behaving this way.

It makes you ashamed that you caved so easily to Peña and his charms. That you let yourself be caught up in his game. You pull your purse from where it’s tumbled to the ground and begin to dig around for your lipstick tube.

“Come here,” you tell him over your shoulder. He steps over to you, eyes warm. He smiles as you pull a tissue from your purse, wiping the faint smudges of your lipstick from his full mouth. He watches your face as you do this, full of concentration.

“What are you doing?” Javier asks, his breathing slowly stabilizing. He’s smoothed his hair back with his hand, looking almost exactly the same as when he arrived, save for a flush to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He sees you turn to the mirror, pulling the lipstick tube from your purse.

"It’s my lipstick,” you say running over your lips with the tube. "I think Brad might just suspect something if we go out there with it smudged all over each other’s mouths."

Javier immediately shuts down, receding and crossing his arms over his broad chest as he looks at the ground.

"Brad."

"Yeah," you say, turning to face the mirror. You’re fixing the smudge of your lipstick but you can see Javier there in the reflection behind you glaring at you. You twist around to look at him.

"What?"

"You're really gonna go back out there with Brad? After you've just come on my fucking cock?"

You go a deep red at the blunt vulgarity of his words. You're so confused by his response. He's ignored you all week, made you come and now... What? He's upset that you're going back to your dates? Upset that the game is done?

"If I recall Rosalia is probably waiting for you."

"Yeah, she is," Peña says and there's a challenge there in his gaze. "Guess I'll compare tonight. See who’s sweeter."

The viciousness of that vulgar statement takes your by surprise.

"That's a disgusting thing to say."

"Well I'm a disgusting man," Javier says sucking at his teeth. "The one with the brothels, right? Isn't that how you introduced me?"

You see him square his shoulders, his eyes turning cold. You hate it when he looks like that. It’s a look he reserves for Escobar and his men, not for you. He turns, heading towards the door he entered and you feel frantic, coming towards him. You don't want him to go.

"Wait, Javier-"

He turns immediately, his eyes large and vulnerable and your hands fly towards him, wanting to wrap around his neck and drag his mouth to yours. But they promptly drop mid-air when the banging on the door begins and a loud voice shouts through at you.

"Hey, who the fuck is taking so long in there!?”

You hear someone begin to rattle the doorknob aggressively and Javier steps away from you, looking tense.

"You better go back to Brad."

He unlocks the door, slipping out and saying something in Spanish before closing the door behind him. You take a moment longer, making sure that you look composed before heading back to Brad. You find him at a table near the front, looking around. When he sees you his face lights up and your stomach twists.

“Hey I’m pretty tired,” you say as you approach. “Mind if I head out?”

“Course not,” Brad says, but you can see the disappointment in his eyes. He places a hand at the small of your back, guiding you towards the front doors of the club. You blanch as a familiar pair of broad shoulders nears you.

“Hey there’s Javier,” Brad says, calling out to he and his date. Javier and Rosalia turn and see you both approach. You can’t look either of them in the eyes.

“Hey Bradley,” Javier says smoothly, his eyes flat. “Osita.”

Brad and Javier chat politely to one another as you look everywhere but Javier's direction. Rosalia looks bored next to him, her large eyes scanning the room.

“We should double next time,” Brad offers, his smile broad. “Maybe somewhere less noisy.”

“Yeah could be fun,” Javier says without inflection, making it clear how he feels about the idea. “Maybe somewhere with bigger washrooms.”

Brad makes a confused face as you glare at Javier. But he’s ignoring you, wrapping his arm around Rosalia’s waist.

"C'mon pretty girl," Javier says loud enough for you to hear as he steers her past you. "Wanna show you something at my place."

"Hope it's your bed," Rosalia giggles,hand on Javier's back jeans pocket. Javier smiles a smile you've seen before, all teeth and shark-like.

"You bet it is, baby."

Two nicknames for the price of one. It's a wonder he didn't toss osita in the just to make it a trifecta. You pretend to lose something from your purse on the ground so that you don’t all exit at the same time. You’re shocked at how fast your heart is beating.

“What did he mean by bigger washrooms?” Brad murmurs when you straighten and take his hand.

“No idea,” you say as you follow Brad into the dark of the night. He mutters something about safety and how it’s insane that there’s no streetlights in this part of town, but you’re glad for the darkness.

It hides your tears.

#javier pena smut #javier pena narcos #pedro pascal javier #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #Dare to Surrender #fanfic #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut

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biancathecrossbow · 8 months

Text

It's pretty easy to hate on an angel RN so let's shake things up and talk about how CROWLEY enables Aziraphale's repression.

Most of the flashbacks put Aziraphales burgeoning cognitive dissonance on centerfold- with Crowley acting as the voice of reason. To Aziraphale, he represents a slippery slope; the personification of Temptation and Hard Questions and Grey Morals, but those things aren't actually character flaws on his part, as the show reminds us over and over. His actual flaws are more subtle, but very much still present.

Frankly, Crowleys worst flaw is stated plainly by Aziraphale; that he enables naivety in order to keep his angel safe. Put another way, swooping in to "save" him.

It's hard to blame him because, well, they could both die otherwise most of the time. But when Crowley saves the day with Job's kids and the Laudanum, he's also stopping Aziraphale from reaching his own solutions (and conclusions). The fact Aziraphale has managed to avoid any kind of punishment is, in fact, a detriment adding to his indoctrination under Heaven. Put simply: for Azi, it always works out. So why worry? Crowley, on the other hand, isn't so lucky- he gets punished for the Laundanum incident (which I hope we get more detail on btw) and in general suffers a lot for protecting Aziraphale.

You see this pattern repeat in smaller interactions, too. Crowley does all the work re-wording things to make them more palatable to Aziraphale. Crowley always returns to apologize after a storm-out. Etc.

((Side tangent: This is another reason I think the Blitz continuation is so interesting. For once you see a bit of a role reversal- Crowley INITIALLY saves him from the Nazis, but it's Aziraphale who saves them both from Furfur. Its one of the first and only times you see them communicating more effectively- so it's NO COINCIDENCE that this is also when Aziraphale seems to unclench his ass a little.))

During the Bookshop fight, Aziraphale waits for Crowley to save them to everybodys detriment. He endangers Maggie and Nina, and ends up having to use the halo as a desperate last resort. Again we see Aziraphale avoid implementing a solution (and thus avoid facing the consequences) until the last moment, hoping Crowley will do it for him. In the end, Nina nails them both on the head, right? They don't talk, and they really should.

All of this to be a stubborn Aziraphale defender, so here's my point:

Aziraphale looks completely shaken during Crowleys confession because it IS the first time he's hearing some of these things. Sure, Crowley has said some variety of "Heaven sucks" a million times, but Aziraphale always heard it to the tune of a jealous guy who has been kicked out for bad behavior. Their situations don't seem the same to Aziraphale because in his LIVED reality, they arent.

Hell, even their "exile" isnt the same- Aziraphale keeps the bookshop and is allowed to keep helping people. Crowley loses everything and continues to be hounded by Shax. To Azi, Heaven and Hell are moral opposites, not parallels, and Crowley has never really argued otherwise until now.

Crowley, of course, bails him out every time because he wants to spare his angel the Heartbreak that destroyed him. You can't blame him- and snapping under all the pressure is only logical too. But you also can't blame Aziraphale for being upset when 6,000 years of Crowleys obscura comes tumbling down around them.

#good omens #good omens meta #ineffible husbands #also this is NOT to shift blame on Crowley. its to point out they are both normal flawed people having normal reactions #to a very abnormal situation

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vindoesanything · 25 days

Text

Y/N: Collei!

Collei: Y/N!

[Today is FINALLY the day where you two are able to hang out during her spare time. Also, having Tighnari allow it was a huge bonus as well. The two of you start walking down the path out of Gandahara Ville and onto your usual hang-out spot where you first hung out.]

Y/N: Ah... What a wonderful day to be out, no? Clear skies, gentle breeze, and of course... Good company!

Collei: Of course! I'm glad you came, Y/N!

[Immediately after you reach your destination. The both of you start talking about different topics, such as "Where did you go?" or "What sights did you see?" While carefully stirring away from any theme that may trigger some of her trauma.]

Collei: Oh! I almost forgot...

[She pulls out a small but humble basket behind her, which you didn't realize she was hiding till now, and pulls out two freshly made Pitas for the two of you.]

Collei: Tada~!

Y/N: Wow! Thanks, Collei!

[Upon handing your Pita, your hands brushed against each other. Knowing that this contact may have caused some discomfort, you quickly pulled your hand away and apologized.]

Y/N: I... Uh... Are you alright?

[You soon realize that instead of the usual stiff reaction she would display, she showed something more... sheepish? The hint of a rosy hue starts to fills her cheeks, and you swear you could see steam coming off her head.]

Collei: I-I...Uhm...

[Collei quickly turns away with her hands covering her flushed cheeks. It's quite a sight to see...]

Collei: D-Don't look at me!

Y/N: Are you... Blushing?

Collei: No... Okay, yes...

[Well... this took a turn. But maybe this is a good thing. And perhaps, this interaction shows how comfortable she is around you. Of course, she wouldn't open up to you just yet... However, this is enough to show how you two have grown with one another.]

(a/n: pat the adorable sight, pat pat pat pat...)

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #x reader #collei #collei genshin #genshin impact collei #collei x reader #collei x you #fluff #delulu

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katethewriter · 2 years

Text

Just Come Home

sequel to Wish We Could Be Like That

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Words: 11k~

Summary: Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Inspired by the song Where's My Love by SYML

Warnings: bad words, bad guys, canon typical violence, an extremely long chapter

A/N: Remember when I said its gonna get worse before it gets better? hehehe... This part includes a long-awaited confrontation! I also hope this is a satisfying ending for the story. I don't really have anything planned next for this series, but I'm not against adding to it. If you have any ideas, hit me up! I might see if it can fit into the series. I'm almost certain this is the longest single chapter I've ever written for a fic. I hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you think!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Near silent foot steps announce Clint’s return.

For the last two hours, he had left to pick up the next shipment you are to pass to the tracksuits. As he enters the room, he looks at you sheepishly. His hands mindlessly fiddle with a small piece of paper with every step.

You barely spare him a glance before returning to the notes you were studying.

The two of you have barely spoken since that morning you finally broke the news of your relationship. Beyond the few questions he asked you about the timeline of your relationship, not much has been said about the matter. The longer the information sets in, the more he contemplates the last year and his interactions with you specifically.

You can see the guilt setting in more and more with each day. You want to give him the benefit of the doubt. He had only been trying to be a good friend. He thought he was looking out for Natasha. That’s what he was trying to do, unknowingly causing the pain he was trying to prevent. You try to remember his intentions were in a good place, despite bring terribly misguided.

However, the sting of betrayal still lingers. The last six months spent with no contact from Natasha and Wanda, without even a chance to say goodbye, all because he meddled into a relationship that wasn’t his to meddle in to begin with.

He comes to a stop in front of you, holding the folded page between you. “This was with the shipment,” Clint breaks the three day silence, “its for you.”

When you look up, he doesn’t meet your gaze. You stare at the offered paper for a moment before finally reaching out to take it from him. As the archer shuffles back to his side of the room, you turn the page over in your hands. Unfolding it slowly, you instantly recognize the handwriting, and your breath catches in your throat.

Y/n,

I wish I could just speak to you directly. I know it would do me good to hear your voice right now, Wanda too. We meant it when we said we are incomplete without you. Unfortunately, this note will have to do for now. We understand this mission is very important, and you have to do what you have to do. However, we miss you more than words can describe and want nothing more than for you to come home as soon as you can. Work fast, but please be careful. Your safety is paramount. We will wait however long we must to be with you again.

We love you.

-N

You don’t notice you are crying until a tear has landed on the paper. You quickly swat away the tears, very aware of the archer still in the room with you. You look up and lock eyes with him. By the look on his face, you know that he read it. He must have to know that it was meant for you.

“I’m sorry,” Clint whispers.

Silence stretches between opposite sides of the room. You need to talk. Decisions have to be made, plans discussed and orchestrated. The next exchange is tomorrow night, and they will want your answer by then.

You fold the paper and tuck it beneath your pillow, “I know.”

“For all of it,” he responds, “for dragging you on this mission, for how I acted, for what I did that night.” He’s had time to think, practiced a few speeches in his head. The apology he owes you. The apology he owes Nat. He can’t seem to come up with the right words, but he tries anyway. He knows you need to clear the air, so you can complete the mission and get home where you belong. “None of it was ok,” he clears his throat.

It’s a big change, an almost complete 180. He wouldn’t blame you for not forgiving him. He knows he doesn’t deserve it. He hasn’t earned it, but he wants to.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Clint asks, “that night or even after?”

Incredulous, you look across the room, “would you have believed me?”

He’s quiet, contemplating his answer. He wants to say yes, that he would have believed you and reacted differently. If he’s honest though, he doesn’t know. Was he too blinded by his protective instincts to have seen the truth? “I don’t know.”

You nod. You can appreciate his honesty at least. “I was insecure,” you admit, “I was worried that you were right. That my involvement in our relationship was hurting them.” Your hand raises to your chest, running your fingers over the rings. Reminding yourself of the reassurances they promised you.

“I was wrong,” Clint nods towards the note under your pillow, “they’re obviously better off with you than without. I’m sorry I didn’t see it.”

You nod silently. As day turns to night and the sky goes black, you remember the mission and what you have to do tomorrow night. “I have to go,” you state, knowing that he will understand what you mean, “we both know that.”

Clint shakes his head, “I can’t let you.”

Groaning, you roll your eyes, “Clint-“

“Y/n,” he interrupts before you can even say anything, “I can’t. If I send you in alone, Nat will never forgive me.”

“You’re a little late for that, bud,” you retort with a raised brow.

He pauses for a moment, contemplating the cryptic message in your response. “She knows?”

You nod in response.

“Does she know about that night in the hall?” he specifies, “about the bruises?”

You nod again.

He furrows his brow, “but she never said anything.”

“She found out the night before we left for the mission,” you explain, “Wanda too, at the bar.”

Clint’s face falls even more, “was she pissed? Nat?”

A chuckle escapes your throat, “I believe her exact words were ‘I’m gonna kill him.’”

He nods solemnly. He knows he deserves it.

Silence falls once again. You both know what you have to do, though he doesn’t want to admit it.

“I have to go in,” you repeat, “it’s the only way we’re going home.”

Clint nods reluctantly, hoping this won’t be the last nail in his coffin.

~I’ve got a fear, oh, in my blood.~

When Wanda rolls over in the morning, she is met with cold sheets as usual. Natasha left long before for her morning run. The sokovian buries her face in the pillow, inhaling as much of your scent as possible.

Late in the night, she had made her way to Y/n’s room. Unable to sleep until she was wrapped completely in her girlfriend’s bedding. When Natasha had woken with Wanda’s movement, she quickly followed. Lying in Y/n’s bed, they were almost able to trick their brains into believing that she’s here.

As she sits up in the bed, Wanda can’t ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something doesn’t feel right, but she can’t put a finger on what it is. The worry settles into her bones as she gets up and begins the day.

Maria and Steve are standing in the same spot looking over the same display boards they always are when Natasha makes her way into the command room. Instantly, she can feel the energy is different today.

The pair are tensely focused on the information on the screens, hushed words exchanged quickly with a sense of urgency. Worry pools in the widow’s stomach like it never has before.

“Any news?” she asks as she quickly approaches the pair.

They startle at her sudden entrance. They turn to her, and then quickly look to each other in silent hesitation.

“What’s going on?” Nat asks after they are silent a moment too long for her liking.

Maria takes a deep breath looking to the ex-assassin, “Y/n missed the check in.”

The worry in Natasha’s gut quickly turns to panic, but she tries to remain calm. She can’t help if she can’t maintain control. “When?” her voice is tight. Her jaw clenched.

“Two nights ago,” Steve relents.

“Two nights?!” The Russian can’t control herself as the panic slips into anger, “What do you mean two nights ago?! Why haven’t you done anything?! Why am I just now hearing this?!”

“They had an exchange with the tracksuits the night before last. They were to check in immediately following,” Maria quickly informs her. “There was a possibility the exchange would lead to further interaction with the group. Clint checked in after and confirmed Y/n got the progress with the group.”

“We should have heard from her last night,” Steve added, and the tone of his voice told Natasha all she needed to know.

Y/n has gone dark.

“What about Clint?” she asks quickly.

Maria turns, “we’re trying to reach out now. We’ve been waiting for him to contact us back.”

“Is he not with her?”

Steve shakes his head, “he said they only agreed to work with her.”

Nat’s stomach drops somehow further than it already had. Immediately thoughts start spiraling in her head.

Clint hates y/n. Is he telling the truth? How much can they trust him? He threatened her. Was he really capable of leaving her in a dangerous position? He hurt her. Could he have put her in harm’s way on purpose?

Is that damn secret gonna cost her and Wanda the love of their lives?

TWO NIGHTS EARLIER

The warehouse is empty when you arrive, as always.

Clint parks, but neither of you exit the car. This could be the last chance to talk before this mission takes a serious turn for you.

“Are you sure?” he asks again. He’s hoping you’ll say no. That this exchange will be just like all the others. They will come, take the shipment and then leave the two of you to make your way back to base together.

“Yes,” you nod. “It’s the in we’ve been waiting for.”

He sighs, “I still say we should wire you.”

This….. again….

“We’ve been working with them for almost six months,” you parrot the same debate you’ve been going through for the past two days. “They’re barely starting to trust us. They’re gonna check for things like a wire. They’re too paranoid not to.”

The archer shakes his head. He hates the plan but knows there is nothing he can do to change it. “You have got to be careful,” he faces you directly, “I won’t be in there to cover your six. Get the information you can and get out as fast as possible. My phone will be in my hands at all times, but don’t try to reach out unless you know you’re alone. Once you’re out, call me. I will meet you whenever and wherever I need to, ok?”

For the first time in months, you look into his eyes and see your friend staring back at you. The guy he’d been before he questioned your involvement with your girlfriends. “Thanks,” you say, actually trusting the words he said to you.

“Let’s get this over with and go home,” he half smiles.

The flash of headlights grab your attention, signaling the arrival of the tracksuits. The two of you exit the car as the three vehicles come to a stop before you. The men start emerging from the cars, and you are met with the usual crew. The last to exit the car is Kazi. The boss’s #2, and the one you were leaving with tonight.

“Long time, no see,” Clint quips as he opens the trunk of the SUV revealing the crates of the substance you are particularly familiar with after months and months of study and handling.

Kazi’s men begin checking the shipment before loading it into their vehicles. The young man in charge approaches you, “I hear you have an answer for me.”

“What’s in it for me?” you bargain, knowing a blind acceptance is suspicious to men who only give when they take first.

Kazi’s lips curl into an amused smirk, “I think you’ll find you’ve been well compensated.” He nods in the direction of Clint and his men.

Once all the goods were transferred, one of their guys pass your partner a large envelope, like they always do at the end of your exchanges. Clint opens and counts the bills, quickly realizing there was more than was typically provided in their previous transactions. The archer looks up to you and nods.

“…and there’s more where that comes from if the boss is impressed.”

You lock eyes with Clint one last time. This is the point of no return. You will officially be on your own. You nod at him, before turning back to Kazi, “well what are we waiting for?”

“Alright,” he grins. He turns towards his car, raising an arm in a silent invitation. Kazi’s guys load into the other two cars and drive off. When you reach the car, he quickly opens the passenger side door for you. You sit down and buckle up as he closes the door and rounds the car.

Clint watches the two of you sit in the car before pulling away to follow the others. Once he can no longer see the taillights, he climbs into the SUV quickly pulling out his phone to check in with the Hill.

~She was carried up

into the clouds high above~

The car ride across town was comfortable enough. Conversation flows pretty easily between you and Kazi. You listen to him explain a little bit about the power structure of the group. He quickly names and describes a handful of the people you were going to meet and work with. He cracks jokes and spills a little bit of gossip amongst the group.

He actually doesn’t seem like that bad of a guy, you think to yourself. You could actually see yourself hanging out with him, if only he wasn’t a criminal.

Eventually he pulls into a parking garage beside what used to be a KB Toy Store. Its only a couple blocks from the abandoned office building you have called home for the past six months. You file that information away, just incase you need to hide quickly.

You exit the car and follow Kazi as he walks to a door on the adjacent wall. They’re steel double doors with large windows in the top half of the door. The view inside is blocked however with several layers of what looks like newspapers.

He stops in front of the door, turning to face you. “I gotta check you first,” he waits for just a moment before elaborating, “can never be too careful.” He chuckles in a way that you know you have no chance of refusing.

Lifting your arms in compliance, “by all means, check away.”

He quickly pats you down quickly until his hand lands on the hand gun strapped to your hip hidden beneath your jacket. He quickly lifts an eyebrow.

You cheekily lift one as well, “can never be too careful.” You smirk, trying to act smug to hide the pounding of your heart.

After a moment, Kazi breaks out a satisfied smile, “boss is gonna love you.” He turns back to the door, knocking three times, pausing for a second, knocking twice, pausing, then knocking three times again. After the sequence, he steps back, and the door is pushed open from the inside.

Kazi leads you through the door and immediately a guy is on you, beginning to pat you down. Kazi holds up his hand, “I already checked her.” He grabs the guys arm and shoves him off you, “she’s clean.”

“Except for the piece on her hip,” a booming voice echoes against the walls. You turn in the direction of the sound and see probably the biggest man you’ve ever seen (with the exception of the hulk) approaching you. You recognize him immediately. Its Fisk, aka Kingpin.

The younger man beside you huffs in amusement, “tell him what you told me.”

“New York’s a big city,” you state confidently, relying on the adrenaline to keep you going, “a girl can never be too careful.”

Fisk cracks smile, “fair enough. Name?”

“Unimportant,” you try to brush off the question.

He fixes you with a stare, “we use names here.”

You suddenly feel rather small under his gaze, “Y/M/N.” Not your official real name that you use, but close enough to not be a lie that could be easily forgotten.

He nods over his shoulder, “right this way, Y/M/N.” He leads you through a short entrance way that you can easily identify as the abandoned toy store. After a moment, you enter a larger room, that looks like a thrift store’s version of a chemistry lab. Tables are covered in tools, test tubes, and large containers of different substances. A wide array of materials, chemicals, powders, unidentifiable liquids and gel like substances. You quickly recognize a few. The one you have provided for the past six months, and others that you learned were often combined with it.

Several men are working meticulously measuring, combining, observing the different ratios as they try to create something. What they are trying to create, you have no idea. They pour over pages and pages of notes.

Kingpin holds up a page that lists detailed instructions for a certain combination of the materials you see scattered about the counters. “This is what we’re wanting,” he offers you the sheet for you to examine more closely, “but these idiots can’t seem to work it out. The subjects don’t survive the first 5 minutes of the transformation.”

At his critique, the men working in the “lab” look up in clear worry.

“Your reputation precedes you,” he taps you lightly on the back, “I hear you’re something of an expert in this area. Maybe you can show this crew how its done?”

You are far from the expert he’s described, but right now, you need to be. Quite literally, your life may depend on it. You may not be an expert, but you have learned quite a lot over the past six months. Enough so that as you glance over the notes quickly, you can almost instantly know what you’re looking at.

It’s a formula for a serum, specifically a very early, rudimentary version of the super soldier serum.

You had become very familiar with it, while studying the component that you have been supplying. Wherever they found these notes, must have been very outdated. This formula didn’t work. A few of the ingredients had later been replaced for better alternatives, some had been dropped altogether because they were not necessary for the serum’s effectiveness.

The biggest problem with this particular formula was that none of the subjects survived. With the perfect ratio, the subject would gain the strength and endurance of a super soldier, but due to unforeseen side effects, it had a very short shelf life. Usually within the following 24 hours, the subject would suddenly seize and eventually succumbing the side effects of the serum.

That’s why they can’t figure it out. The formula was just simply flawed beyond repair.

In an instant, your blood turns cold. The only way out of this building for you is to successfully manufacture the drug. If you did that, who knows how many innocent people will be at risk. Fortunately, quick thinking grants you the best plan of action.

Fix the formula just enough so its successful for a very short amount of time. You don’t need much, just enough to display the effects and get out before the serum kills the subject.

“Well, your problem is that these directions are almost over 100 years old,” you walk to one of the counters. Quickly grabbing a pen, you adjust the ratios, “this was one of the first attempts for the serum. They had to adjust the formula to make it successful.”

Once you are finished writing in the necessary changes, you fully enter the “lab” and begin gathering what you’ll need. The men, who had been working tirelessly, watch in shock as you confidently work circles around them.

This irritates Fisk beyond words, “start taking notes, idiots.” All of them hurriedly grab the closest pen and piece of paper available to them. Their focus then sets directly to you and every move you make.

The creating of the serum takes a few hours, requiring certain periods of heat and cold to activate different components. Once you’re finished, the sun has risen again. Neither you, the other men in the lab, or Kazi have slept at all during the process.

When Kingpin returns in the morning, you have a vial of the perfectly effective serum. You know you need to leave soon, but Fisk insists you stay through the first test.

They lead in a man with his mouth gagged. He is forcefully strapped to a chair for the injection. A part of you pities the man frantically trying to break out of confinement and as far away from your needle as possible. Then you remember, he’s a tracksuit, and the entire city depends on you getting out of here in time to gather the team for a strike.

Once you’ve injected the subject with the serum, it takes only a few seconds to fully work its magic. A small audience has gathered to observe the first trial of this new serum. He begins to thrash violently, even more so than when he was dragged into the room.

You all watch as his muscles swell, until the point a handful of the restraints burst under the force. It takes about 5 minutes for the initial effect to come to a stop, but then, he manages to break free of the restraints that remained like they were nothing. You turn your attention to the others in the room to gage their reactions.

Kingpin slightly smirked with victory. Kazi smiles at you, mentally congratulating himself for being the one to find exactly who they needed to make it work. The other lab workers stare awestruck that in a few hours you had accomplished what they have tried to for the better part of a year.

“Well done,” Fisk is impressed and anxious. He finally has what he needs to push is plan of city wide domination. “Put the formula in writing for our guys, and you are free to go.”

Instantly you do as your told. This new super soldier is a ticking time bomb, and you need to be far away when it explodes. After answering a few questions from the lab workers, you make your exit. Kazi stops you, asking if you need a ride somewhere. When you say that won’t be necessary, his face drops much like a kicked puppy.

…maybe Clint was right. You do have an admirer.

The moment you step foot outside of that store, you walk quickly in the direction of your base. You wait until you are a block away before pulling out your phone and call Clint.

Before he can even say hello, you interrupt him.

“Super Soldier Serum,” you say as soon as he picks up the phone.

“What?” he asks as he watches you walking further away from the building.

“That’s what they’re trying to make,” you continue, “the super soldier serum. They’ve accrued enough materials to inject over two thirds of their organization.”

When you round the corner, leaving Clint’s line of vision, he quickly makes his way down the building he was currently in, and he begins to make his way to meet you at the base. “With kind of man power…” he thinks out loud.

“They could level the city,” you finish the sentence for him. “I had to fix their formula-“

“You gave them the recipe?!”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see you, “not exactly. I had to give them something to get out of there. I gave them one of the first, unsuccessful, instructions. The subjects won’t survive the next 24 hours.”

The archer can sense where this info goes to, “how long do we have?”

“Don’t know. Its different with each person,” you explain, “could be very late tonight or he could already be dead.”

Walking faster now, Clint feels a new level of urgency, “we need to get to the compound now.”

“and raid the store front. They’re already working on the next round of injections,” you warn, “They could inject a large number of them before they realize their poisoning themselves. At that point, they’ll be so pissed they won’t care what they do in the city.”

“Meet me at base.”

“A block and a half away,” you confirm, walking a little quicker desperate to get there now. So busy relaying the information, you don’t notice the two guys trailing you from across the street. Both are tracksuits; they sneak behind you waiting for their shot.

You’ve only just hung up the phone and turn down an alley to reach the back entrance of your building when a sharp pain pierces your abdomen. There’s no sound. No gunshot. No disturbance; nothing that should have stopped you on your way home. However, the next thing you know, you’re on the ground laying in a quickly growing pool of blood.

~If you’ve bled, I’ll bleed the same.~

“What’s wrong?” Wanda asks frantically entering the command room. All of the intense thoughts from everyone in the room had cut through any train of thought she had. Something is clearly happening, but the thoughts overlap and intertwine so much that she can’t make sense of any of it.

Nat turns to her girlfriend, “Y/n missed her check in two nights ago.”

The sokovian’s eyes go wide as she looks frantically between all three of them, waiting for more. “What?”

“She didn’t check in that night; there was a possibility that she wouldn’t. If she missed it, she was supposed to check in the next day, yesterday,” Maria quickly explains. “She didn’t.”

“and Clint?” the witch asks. One of the tings that worried her the most is that y/n was out there with him.

Steve responds, “we’re trying to reach out to him now. They were separated. He was supposed to check in after she got out sometime yesterday.”

“He hasn’t answered his damn phone,” Nat growls.

The four of them are in deep conversation, searching for any traffic cams or security cameras with in a five block radius. They’re so deep in conversation, the miss entirely the entrance of the very person they were trying to contact.

“Why aren’t they together?”

“Because I was sent to assemble back up,” a voice immediately sends their attention straight to the door. All of their eyes land on the archer.

A flurry of emotions race through Natasha and Wanda, fear, confusion, shock, panic, and lastly pure hot anger.

They haven’t seen him since that night at the bar, since they found out how he had hurt their girl. On sight, the betrayal and anger bubble to the surface. Wanda’s hands and eyes glow red unintentionally. Natasha immediately walks up to him.

The widow grabs his bicep the same way he had grabbed y/n. With everything in her, she swings him around to the closest wall. When his back hits the wall, he winces in pain.

The others are shocked still at Natasha’s violently angry outburst. “Hey Nat, cool it,” Steve attempts to deescalate the situation and break up the fight, but Clint holds out a hand, stopping him before he can really intervene.

“No, Cap,” he half groans, half whispers.

Natasha is not oblivious to the exchange. “No, cause you know you deserve it; is that what you did to y/n? Is that how you grabbed her?”

“Yes,” he admits to his friend’s face.

Natasha grabs him by the collar, pulling him away from the wall, just to slam him back into it, “how does that feel?” She only gives him two seconds to respond. When he doesn’t, she repeats the movement: pulling him away and shoving him back. “…and you deserve it. Don’t you? You deserve and she never did.”

Clint can only nod, “I do deserve it, but Nat this has to wait-“

She pushes him against the wall again, “Tell me, did you even give her a chance to defend herself before you started throwing her around?”

He has no words for his actions, no excuse. He sighs, “no.”

Natasha leans closer until she is in his face, “then why should I give you that curtesy?”

“Because Y/n needs us right now,” Clint states urgently.

She wants to keep going, wanted to punch him, give him a share of what he had inflicted on y/n, but at the sound of her name she pauses for a moment. She pushes off him, unwilling to risk y/n for her anger.

“Where is she?”

“Hiding near our base. I had to leave her and come get the team,” he looks over each of them quickly. “We have to go raid the old KB Toy Store and get back to her as soon as we possibly can.”

Maris from the place she had been observing quietly, steps up and asks, “why the KB Toy Store?”

“The tracksuits are using it as their front. Y/n got in, and they’re trying to make the super soldier serum,” he locks eyes with Steve for a moment. “She had to help them to get out of there. She gave them a formula that lasts max 24 hours before it kills the soldier. He wants inject a large number of his men within the next few hours. We have to stop them, before they realize they’re dying and take it out on civilians.” Maria quickly jots down everything that he says, so she can begin to organize a team.

“Where is she?” Natasha hisses, “why didn’t you come back together?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but his voice hesitates to form words. “She told me to leave her and come back for her. She wouldn’t have made the trip.”

“Why?” its Wanda who asks this time. Her eyes have begun to fade, but her hands still glow bright red.

Clint looks between the two of them anxiously, “because she got hit. GSW to the abdomen.”

Once again, rage erupts in Natasha, “you left her out there?” She takes him by the shirt and throws him on the ground. Kneeling over him, she only gets a few good punches in before Steve is pulling her off of him.

Wanda steps between them, while Steve continues to hold back Natasha until she has calmed down as much is possible considering the current state of events.

Clint shakily raises to his feet, np sporting a split lip and an already swelling face, “she made me come back for help.”

“How can we believe you?” Wanda questions. He had hurt her before, in her mind, it is entirely possible he would do it again.

“Because she gave me this,” he reaches into his pocket and produces a necklace, but not just any necklace. He holds up y/n’s necklace with two rings hanging like charms on a bracelet, the one they had given her as a promise of her place in their hearts.

In an instant, the necklace is wrapped in red light, ripped from his grasp, and flies to Wanda’s outreached hand.

She hates the thought of him having this in his possession. It was meant to stay on y/n’s neck always until they present her with a ring of her own.

“This doesn’t prove anything,” Wanda says through gritted teeth.

The archer sighs, wondering what it will take for them to listen and heed his warnings. An idea come to mind, “read my mind, Wanda. See the memory for yourself. If that will convince you that we need to move fast.”

Wanda closes the distance between them, and she wants to use her powers to throw him against the wall as Nat did. But she wants y/n home and safe more. Raising a hand, she taps the side of his head. She slips with him deep into his subconscious and more specifically, the memory in question.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint never heard a gun shot. He just rounded the corner to find Y/n on the ground rapidly losing blood.

“Y/n?” he runs over quickly. When he kneels down and sees you’re awake enough to talk to him, he feels a moment of relief, but only briefly. Taking in the blood loss, he knows you need help immediately, “its ok, y/n. You’re gonna be ok. I’m gonna get you out of here.”

He quickly does his best stop the flow of blood. He rips the bottom of your shirt to pack the wound, and another longer strip he wraps all the way around your stomach to keep as much pressure on the wound as possible.

Even despite the blood loss, you have enough cognitive function to think clearly about the situation, “Clint, you gotta go.”

“We will, give me one more second, then we’re on the move,” he continues to work on the improvised medical attention, frantically doing everything he can to get you well and stable enough to hurry across town.

“Clint, we’ll never make it,” you shake your head, “if this was Kingpin, he’ll have people, maybe even super soldiers all over the place canvasing the city searching for me. You need to go get back up and stop him before he succeeds.”

“No,” he shakes his head stubbornly, “I gotta get you back to Nat.”

“This is how you do that, Clint,” you try to reason, the clock is winding down. It may already have ran out. You try again, “I won’t make it across the city. I’m a breathing bread crumb trail that with lead them straight to you. You can come back for me.”

He halts his movements for a split second to look at you, “what would I even say to them? If I come back alone, they won’t believe me. They’ll think I left you for dead.”

You have to admit he has a point there. He needs proof. Something that will make them know to listen to what he has to say. With shaky hands covered in blood, you reach up to unclasp your necklace. Once its off, you clasp it again, and hold it out for him to take.

“Take this.”

“No,” Clint denies.

You don’t give in, “give it to them, they’ll listen if you have it.”

Tying one last knot in the make shift bandage, he’s almost ready to set you on your feet the best you could manage. “Give it to them yourself.”

“Clint please,” you beg with a despair in your voice that cracks his resolve, “I didn’t get to say goodbye.” Tears roll down your cheeks, suddenly facing a fear you never knew you had, “please, I can’t die, Clint. I can’t die without... I never got to say goodbye.” Your hand shakes as you hold up the necklace once more, “please. It’s the only chance I’ll see them again.”

He finally relents, taking the necklace from your grasp. He quickly looks around the alley, trying to fins a place that leaves at least somewhat hidden. He quickly lifts you and sits you beside the dumpster about five yards away. He finds the remnants of a cardboard box. Takin the larger pieces, he leans them over you and against the side of the dumpster. “Stay here,” he urges you, like there’s anywhere you could go. “This should keep you pretty hidden,” he says to you before placing the last piece over your face, “just incase they come back. Try to stay quiet and awake. We’ll come get you as soon as we can, I promise. Just stay with us.”

After that he covers your face, like he did with the rest of your body. Clint stands quickly reaching for his phone so he can call for backup, but he can’t seem to find it. He takes off down the alley without it. He doesn’t have time to look for it.

Y/n doesn’t have time for him to look for it.

Dodging the tracksuits while traveling across the city, proved to be much harder than Clint had anticipated. Several times, he had to hide low for a while, until the person moved on. All in all, it’s the next morning by the time he runs the compound doors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda exits Clint’s memories and is thrusted back into the present. Immediately, her face crumples, and she buries it in her hands. She pivots falls back into Natasha’s embrace.

~If you’re scared, I’m on my way.~

No one needs to ask what that means. Everyone knows that Clint must be telling the truth.

“We have to go,” Wanda lifts her head, “We have to go now.” Natasha nods, pulling the younger woman close to her again.

A brief lock of eyes between Natasha and Steve is what finally tips the ball into rolling. The super soldier immediately sends out an urgent message announcing an emergency mission. Everyone is to suit up immediately and report to the command room right away.

Natasha and Wanda are the first to make it to the command, wanting no needing to be out there right now. Clint is a close second.

When he enters, the couple were staring at a monitor. A video clip plays on repeat. It’s a bit below average in quality, but they don’t care. They watch you exit the front and walk down the sidewalk until you walk out of frame.

They barely spare the archer a glance, before turning back to the video.

“I’m sure you don’t want anything to do with me, and I totally get that,” he pauses briefly as he formulates his next sentence in his head, “I just need to say I’m so-“

“You can apologize after we save her, and not a moment before,” Natasha cocks an eyebrow. Clint has come to know that facial expression well over the years, but never has it been directed at him. “Understood?”

He nods in solemn confirmation. They wait for the rest of the team, filled with anxious nerves and deathly silence.

Around 10 minutes later, the entire team is in the command room. Steve explains briefly the rolls for each person. You were splitting into groups, each group going after their respective objectives.

The vast majority of the group will be raiding KB Toy Store.

While Natasha, Wanda, and Clint will be on the second objective: locate Y/n and get her back to the compound as fast as possible. Wanda and Nat were assigned this group for the obvious reasons. Clint was chosen solely because he knows where he hid her. Not to mention that he volunteered himself for this team.

They take a helicopter across the city to avoid the delay of New York traffic. They landed on the rooftop of a building equal distance from KB Toy Store and where Clint left y/n. Everyone pours out and runs to do what they need to, knowing how time sensitive the whole situation is.

~Did you run away?

Did you run away? I don’t need to know.~

Clint leads Natasha and Wanda to the alley behind base.

When they turned down the alley, neither of them saw y/n, but they did see the rather large blood mark that still stains the concrete below. Sensing their panic, “Its ok, I moved her.”

The three of them run to the far side of the dumpster only to be met with several pieces of cardboard with some blood stains.

“I left her right here!” the archer exclaims. He told her to stay put, that he was coming back. A nagging feeling in the bag of his throat suggests that maybe she was picked up. However, they have no clues as to who would have done that. It could be anybody, the tracksuits, an ambulance, some other random stranger that just happened across a pretty helpless woman.

Wanda takes a deep breath trying to remain as calm as possible, even when it feels like her world is crumbling in front of her eyes. “I can’t feel her,” she’s unable to hear y/n’s thoughts.

“She might be unconscious,” Natasha reassures Wanda and honestly herself too. The widow is in deep contemplation of where y/n may have gone. “How far could she have gone if she left on her own?” Nat asks.

Clint shakes his head slightly, “not very far. I had to carry her from here to there,” pointing between the large blood stain and the side of the dumpster.

“So we start close and work our way out,” the widow takes a look at the surrounding buildings, “is she familiar with any buildings in this area?”

“Yeah, this building is our base,” he nods in the direction of the base. “but I doubt she could manage to get herself in there in the state she was in.”

“Have to start somewhere,” Nat tries to pull open the door, but is met with a resistance that will not budge.

“Wait,” Clint quickly comes up behind her holding a key, “we’re gonna need this.”

Nat takes a step back so he can get to the door, “does she have a key?”

“She does,” he turns the key and pulls the door open, “but I don’t know if it was on her person.

Upon entering, Nat and Wanda understand why this is the place is a perfect base while undercover. It doesn’t look like anyone has been here in years and years.

“Ok there are 14 floors,” Clint states, “our set up is on the eighth. We’d probably get the best results if we split up”

“Agreed,” Nat nods. “So, here’s the plan. Clint, go to the top floor and work your way down. Wanda, start from the ground floor and work your way up. I’ll start at 5 and work my way up. Everyone ok with that plan?”

Wanda and Clint quickly agree, and the three of them scatter. Each going to their separate way to search for y/n.

The archer is intimately familiar with the building so he quickly clears the top floors, making it all the way to the eighth floor. Once there, he runs into their setup hoping y/n has somehow managed to get herself up there. Unfortunately, the room is empty. Still determined to find her, he sits at the desk and begins searching through the security feed of the building, hoping it can show him where she went.

Natasha floors 5, 6, and 7. As she sweeps through 8, she hears what sounds like the typing of a keyboard. She follows the sound to a set of double doors; one of which is propped open. She takes a deep breath before entering the room and aiming at the room’s occupant. All she finds is Clint sitting at a desk. Lowering her weapon, she relaxes a bit.

“Have you already checked every floor above us?” she asks. All she gets a nod in response. Quickly she does the math in her head. How had he cleared 6 floors while she had only made it through 3? “… and you’re positive she’s not up there?”

Clint doesn’t even turn his eyes from the computer screens, “Nat, I have lived in this building for the last 6 months. The floors are clear.”

The widow approaches the desk and peers over his shoulder. Her eyes go wide when she sees the security footage he is looking through. He has all angles of the building. If y/n was anywhere in the building, they should be able to find her with the footage.

Wanda searches floors 1, 2, and 3 with no luck. She’s trying to move as fast as she can, while also being as thorough as possible. Its that thoroughness that keeps her from clearing the rooms as quickly as she likes.

Once she is certain the third floor is empty, she enters the stair well to move up to the fourth. She takes the first set of steps two at a time. When she turns to raise the next set of steps, she freezes mid-step, and stares.

“Y/n?”

At the top of the steps, you lay unconscious, leaning against the wall.

“Y/N!”

Immediately, Wanda flies up the stairs and drops next to you. She takes you into her arms. She cradles your head in one arm, while the other hand strokes your cheek. Your skin is ghostly pale, a clear sign of the amount of blood you’ve lost.

“Come on, detka,” Wanda calls to you, trying anything to wake you. She switches from stroking your cheek to patting it. “Please lyubov, wake up,” she desperately wants to see your eyes. “Open your eyes,” she tries to shake you awake, but your eyes remain closed, “Y/n please.”

Her voice waivers in terror. Pressing two fingers to the soft spot just below your jaw, she prays to feel a pulse. For a moment, she feels nothing and fears the worst. “No please,” her lip quivers in anguish, “… please detka, no.”

Wanda presses harder, willing herself to find it, and she does. Its weak and frighteningly slow, but its there. She’ll take it. She immediately raises her hand to press the com in her ear, “I found her! I’ve got her. We’re in the stairwell between the third and fourth floor, far east side of the building.”

On the eighth floor, Nat and Clint jump up from the desk, sprinting out of the room. “Is she…” the widow can’t bring herself to finish the question.

“She’s alive,” Wanda answers, not needing words to know what Nat meant. “She’s unconscious and nonresponsive, but she has a pulse,” Wanda looks up from your face to look towards the door she believes they will come through, “she needs medical attention now.”

“Get her to the chopper,” Steve’s voice rings through the com, “and take her to the compound.”

She shakes her head, even though no one can see her, “I don’t think she’ll make it to the chopper-“

“Wanda?”

Your girlfriend’s attention snaps down to you. She had been so busy trying to communicate with the others, she had missed you opening your eyes and staring up at her. Tears of relief flood her face, and she smiles down at you, “hi detka.” She cups your cheek gently stroking it with her thumb.

Leaning ever so softly into her touch, you try to return her smile, “I love you.”

A happy laugh falls from her lips, “I love you too.” She leans down to press her lips to yours for the first time in many months. Her lips are soft against your dry, chapped ones, but it’s still the best feeling you’ve had since the beginning of the mission.

She pulls back to look at you again.

“Which stairwell?” Nat’s voice pops into her ear, bringing Wanda back into the moment.

“There’s three on that side of the building,” Clint elaborates.

The witch brings her hand back to her com, “the northeast corner. She’s awake; she’s talking.”

“Nat?” you ask weakly.

“She’s here,” Wanda nods down at you, “Nat’s coming; she’s on her way.” She never released her com, so the team can hear her reassure you.

As she continues running through the building, Nat has an idea, “Wanda, give her your com.” The sokovian smiles to herself, knowing what Natasha is wanting to do.

You watch her rip the tech out of her ear and transfer it to yours. She holds the button, so they can hear you just as much as you can hear them. There’s only silence for a moment, then Nat’s voice fills your ears.

“Detka?”

It’s only one simple word, but it brings tears of joy to your eyes, “Natasha?”

“Hi lyubov,” you can hear the smile in her voice, despite her rapid breathing from running, “I’m almost there, love. I’m coming.”

“I love you,” you whisper, as the tears spill from the corner of your eyes.

“I love you too,” she immediately repeats back to you, “just hang on a little longer for me. We’re gonna get you out of here. Ok? You’re gonna be ok, just hang on.” Her voice is laced with urgency.

“Ok,” you promise.

There is more talking. Something about someone leaving the raid, to take you back to the compound immediately. You can barely make it out as your awareness begins to slip again.

Your eyelids are heavy, and despite your effort they begin to droop. Wanda notices this and begins shaking you again, “stay awake detka. I need you to stay awake right now.” You can only nod, as she gently strokes your colorless cheek.

The door to the stairwell flies open.

Natasha barrels through it, with Clint close behind. Wanda smiles up at her in clear relief to be with you again. Without pause, the widow falls to the floor next to you on the opposite side of Wanda. Her hands cradle your face, and her smile beams down at you, “Hey lyubov.”

“Hi.”

“If you ever leave without saying goodbye again, you are in so much trouble,” Nat playfully scolds you.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper at the pain you must have caused them.

They both shake their heads firmly. “Shhhhh,” Natasha leans forward to press a long kiss to your forehead.

From the doorway, Clint watches the reunion. A clear display of how wrong he has read the situation for the past year.

Natasha rests her forehead against yours, relishing your presence. Wanda pulls both of your heads close to her chest. They cling to you, like you might disappear if they don’t hold you tight enough. Not that you were complaining at all.

“Hey love birds.”

Wanda and Nat break from the embrace to face the door.

Tony now stands in the doorway behind Clint with only his face not covered by his suit, “I heard someone needed a lift.”

The two women look back down at you. “Tony’s gonna fly you to the compound,” Nat lightly scratches your scalp.

“We’re right behind you,” Wanda promises. You nod in confirmation. You don’t really want to separate from them right now, but you know that you can’t delay treatment any longer.

Natasha leans down to kiss you. She nestles her face in your neck briefly, trying to soak up as much you as she can before you part again. Once she leans back, Wanda takes her place. She whispers sweet nothings in your ear, then brings her lips to yours.

After they’ve said goodbye, they help Tony gather you in his arms. He lifts up and begins flying to the nearest exit. Once you’re outside, he rises and propels the two of you through the air.

“So, please tell me,” he says as you travel above the city, “exactly how did you manage to land not one, but two hot women? What’s your secret? …asking for a friend, of course.”

You chuckle despite your current condition, “I think I’ll ask Pepper about this ‘friend’ of yours first.”

~If you ran away,

If you ran away, come back home.~

The room is quiet. The only sounds heard are your measured breaths and the beeping of your heart monitor.

Nat and Wanda have not left your bedside, since you all returned to the compound yesterday. You haven’t woken up since the surgery to remove the bullet fragments in your abdomen. Cho has assured them that you are stable and expected to make a full recovery. All you needed now was rest while your body mended itself back together.

Wanda sits near your head. One hand holds yours close to her chest, while the other delicately strokes your face. After two blood transfusions and an iv for rehydration, your skin is full of color once again. Your cold, chapped lips are now soft and full. The change is comforting to both of your girlfriends. The y/n they know slowly returning to them.

Natasha is resting in a seat on your other side. She rests an elbow on your bed, propping up her head. Her other hand firmly grips yours on the bed. She’s fighting to keep her eyes open. The adrenaline has faded and exhaustion of not only the day before, but also the constant worry of the past six months finally catches up to her. Her eyes close despite her best effort.

They sit like that and wait and wait for you to wake up once again.

A soft knock on the door pulls Wanda’s attention from you. Natasha however has managed to doze off. Steve enters carrying two plates with a sandwich and some carrots on each.

“I brought you guys something to eat, when you’re up for it,” he sets the plates on the small side table near the end of your bed.

“Thank you,” Wanda smiles appreciatively.

Steve nods, “any changes?”

The sokovian deflates slightly, “not yet. Cho said it should be any time now.” She looks over your face, “just up to her now.”

He nods. He’s glad to have you back. The change in Wanda and Natasha is tangible. Your presence beginning to return them to their normal selves. He knows the moment you’re awake and well, they will finally be ok again.

“We got them,” he says, remembering part of the reason he ventured in here. “The tracksuits,” he continues, “we took them down before they were able to inject any others with the serum. Thanks to her.” He nods in your direction.

Wanda smiles proudly, “she’s pretty great right?” The super soldier agrees with a smile. “… though I may be a little partial,” she playfully adds.

“Rightfully so,” he takes one last glance at you, “keep me posted about any updates. Also, let me know if you need anything.”

“We will,” she smiles, “thank you, Steve.”

With one last nod, he slips from the room. Leaving the three of you in silence again.

Wanda’s attention returns to you. She hums softly and her fingers find their way to your cheek again.

Another hour passes in this way. You and Natasha both sleep, while Wanda memorizes every one of your features.

She’s so deep in thought, that she thinks she imagined it when your brow furrowed slightly. She continues watching as you lay still again. When your eyelids begin to flutter, she knows she didn’t imagine it.

“Natasha,” she reaches over to wake her.

The Russian startles awake. She lifts her head, looking at Wanda, then following her gaze to you just in time to see your eyes flutter open. “Lyubov,” she stands quickly to lean over you.

You blink against the harsh light as your eyes adjust. You are faintly aware of someone calling your name as you slowly take in your surroundings.

“Y/n?”

Looking up, you find Wanda and Nat looking down at you in hopeful hesitation. Their smiles only grow when you fully lock eyes with them.

“Hi-“ you try to say, but your voice is so dry. You’re sent into a small coughing fit.

Almost instantly, Wanda produces a cup of water from somewhere. “Here,” she offers bringing a straw to your lips. You drink greedily, taking large mouthfuls until your throat is no longer burning.

“Thank you,” you rest back into the bed, and a sharp stabbing sensations blooms on your stomach. You wince and try to lay as still as possible.

They notice this of course. “Are you in pain?” Natasha asks. When you nod, she reaches for the call button on the side of your bed.

A nurse quickly enters the room.

“She’s hurting, can you give her anything?”

The nurse nods, “I’ll be right back.” He then exits the room swiftly.

Once alone again, they turn back to you.

“The tracksuits?” you ask. You need to know that the danger has been neutralized.

“Gone,” Wanda smiles, “the team took them down before any more of them were injected. SHIELD confiscated all of their materials. Its all locked away. Everything has been taken care of.”

You nod gratefully, but worry and guilt stirs within you, “I didn’t want to help them.” You look between them, hoping they will believe you, “I had to give them something, but I didn’t want to-“

“Hey, hey,” Natasha hushes you, “its ok, you did the right thing. You bought us time to take them down.”

Wanda quickly jumps on the end of Nat’s words, “the mission was a success, and that’s all because of you.” They gently soothe you until your worries are squashed.

They’ve finally calmed you down when there’s a knock at the door. You all look up to see Yelena smiling in the doorway.

“Hey, you’re awake,” she enters and stops at the foot of your bed, “how are you feeling?”

You tilt a bit, “well I’ve been better.”

The blonde nods with a smile, “yeah, I bet.”

There’s a moment of silence, and the energy in the room feels awkward. No one quite knowing what to say. This is the most Yelena has spoken to you in you can’t remember how long. Her friendly tone throws you off a bit, but it is a welcome change.

“I need to apologize,” Yelena finally breaks the silence. By her face and tone, you can tell that she knows about your relationship. Her guilt is clear on her face.

“Its ok-“ you try to say, but she cuts you off.

“No, its not,” she stands resolute, “I never should have treated you that way. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was so uncool of me to assume the worst without knowing the whole story.” As she speaks, you can feel the sincerity of her words, “you were my friend, you deserved better than that. I know I don’t deserve it, but I would like to be your friend again, someday.”

You smile. This is the Yelena you have missed since she became suspicious of you. “Is this the part where you give me the shovel talk? ‘You better not hurt my sister or else!’?”

The blonde looks between her sister and Wanda, “I’ve been told I used up all of my protective sister speeches.” She pauses for a moment, “… plus, I trust you not to hurt her.”

Her words hit you straight to your heart. Emotion starts to gather in your eyes; you lightly squeeze Nat’s hand prompting her to bring yours to her lips. She leaves a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

Yelena takes this as her cue to leave you three to each other. “I’ll get out of here, so you can rest,” she smiles to each of you, “if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you, Yelena,” you say. She gives you one last half smile before slipping back into the hallway.

Once alone again, you look up to them and sigh, “I missed you so much.”

“We missed you too,” Wanda leans down to kiss you lightly, “more than you know.”

Natasha then leans up to press her lips to yours. She’s happy not only that you’re home, but you’ll also be treated the way you deserved to be from the beginning.

“Am I interrupting?” a familiar voice asks from the doorway.

“Yes,” Natasha grumbles and breaks the kiss to acknowledge the new visitor.

The three of you find Clint standing awkwardly with flowers in his hands, but you don’t notice those. You are too preoccupied by his appearance. His face is all beat up. A busted lip, swollen eye, and a litany of bruises adorn his face.

“Woah, what happened to you?” you ask. None of those injuries had been there the last time you saw Clint, when he hid you beside the dumpster. You know he had been there when they found you, but you never saw him, too concerned reuniting with your girlfriends and trying to maintain consciousness.

“Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

He steps into the room. “These are for you,” he places the flowers on the side table next to two plates of food you are just noticing for the first time. Were those for Nat and Wanda? When was the last time they ate?

He then stands looking between the three of you. Wanda and Natasha are very much still angry with him. They barely spare him a glance. Natasha specifically fighting to keep her hands to herself.

“I want to apologize,” he starts, “to all of you. I’m sorry for dragging Y/n on that mission, for all that time you suffered being apart. Nat, I’m sorry I didn’t just come to you and ask what was going on. Y/n, I’m especially sorry for lashing out at you. That night in the hallway…”

At the mention of the incident, both Wanda and Nat snap their focus on him. Their need to protect you pushing itself right to the front of their brains.

“… it was uncalled for,” he finishes, “and way out of line. I don’t expect or deserve your forgiveness, but if there is anything I can ever do to make up for some of the suffering I’ve caused, I will do it without question.” Your girlfriends don’t say anything; they just return their attention to you.

“Just you wait,” you break the silence, “once I’m cleared, we’re gonna spar, and I will not be pulling my punches.” Despite the anger they still feel, your remark brings an amused smirk to their faces.

Clint chuckles lightly, “I think that’s more than fair.”

Just then the nurse finally returns with the medication to help with your pain.

“I’m gonna step out,” the archer says, “I’ll see you around.” Without anything further, he exits the room.

The nurse approaches the side of your bed, and Natasha steps back to give him room to work. “Alright Agent Y/L/N,” he adjusts your iv and begins to push the medication into the line, “this should help with your pain. It has a sedative effect, so any drowsiness is completely normal.”

You nod as you feel the effects of the drug throughout your body.

Once he is finished, he resets your iv with fluids, gathers the discarded vial of medication and makes his exit, “if you need anything, just press the call button.” With that he is gone.

Your girlfriends settle back beside you like they were when you were asleep. Nat runs her fingers through you hair, while Wanda takes your hand between both of hers. You relax back into the bed as the medication fully sets in. Your side no longer hurts, and your brain feels a bit fuzzy.

Your thumb runs across a ring on Wanda’s finger, and she is reminded of the item in her pocket.

“I have something for you,” she says softly, reaching into her pocket. You furrow your brow curiously. When she holds up the necklace with their rings, you can only smile. She reaches around your head to put it back in its place, and you lift your head to give her more room. “There,” she says once it is secured around your neck.

Nat reaches and adjusts the rings until they are centered on your chest. She fixes you with a stare, “if you ever take it off again, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

A genuine laugh bubbles up your throat, “I won’t.” Your eyes feel heavy once again. The longer the drug is in you, the more it works its magic.

“Sleep,” the widow urges you, “you need it to heal.”

“We’ll be here when you wake up,” Wanda promises, “sleep now.”

Unable to fight the drowsiness, you relent, “ok.” Though you catch sight of something, right before you can close your eyes, “will you do me a favor?”

“Anything detka,” they agree before you even ask.

You smile cheekily, “eat those sandwiches before I wake up again.”

Now, they are the ones laughing. Nat rolls her eyes but agrees, “ok.” She resumes playing with your hair, while Wanda hums quietly again.

The combination quickly drifts you off to sleep again.

~Just come home.~

Learning Curve

Series Master List

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

…so they keep telling me my taglist is too long, and I’m not allowed to tag that many people in a post, SO I’m gonna try to tag the rest in the comments. If you know a way around the 50 tag limit, let a sister know please 🙃

tag-list: @simp4nat @mostlymarvelsstuff @youralphawolf72 @originallovementality @an-evergreen-rose @mmmmokdok @localarcherwriter @boowhobabe @womenarehotsstuff @gay-trash-in-a-paperbag @lifeontop @wandamaximoff-simp @kaitlynroseb @diablloblood @ang3lmask @marvelwomen-simp @nightimemommy @smromanoff @nothisismax @splatasha-jumpinoff @natashaswifeu @nattyswidow @dumpaccdontmindme @natty-taffy @iliketozoneout @nowthisisliving27 @theoowo @tvseries-writings @trikruismybitch @s1ut4nat @xinied @souanick @melatonindaydreamz @angel-of-snow @chailivi @lainjupi @gay-fandom-menace @trashbod @lonewalker17 @daenerys713 @tigerlillyruiz @winters-witch-bitch @wizardofstories @karmasgxrl @kyoka-jirou @m-r-nicely @marvelfan-2022 @its-just-greek @anonreader346 @justarandomreaderxoxo @smallworld123 @finleyfray @maernys @loveshineslikethesky @peachesandhoneyb @danicarpediem @ministark @imthenatynat @bapplenana @alwaysgoodnight @oh-thats-cute @jowshuaayee

***if your url is not listed above or in the comments below and you would like to be added to the taglist, please go to the series master list and comment there. Its easier for me to have all the tag requests in one location. Thank you, y’all are the best 🥰

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kacchanisms · 9 months

Text

(spoilers for mha 395)

the final arc of mha is intentionally written to be the most pacifistic. the heroes want to save the core villains, to prove that their hearts have changed, to show that their society is redeemable, that they have a future. toga dying would collapse the whole arc.

it would be an egregious misstep on the author's side to shatter the narrative they spent nearly 400 chapters on. pairings and other nonsense aside, this ending would run directly counter to the ideas of the story.

there's foreshadowing as well. in toga's "final" moments, she refuses to be arrested. for her, it's freedom or death, living freely as a villain or dying before she's captured.

hawks said to twice to turn himself in or die. freedom or death, twice fought and died.

there has to be a third option, where toga can live freely as she is. ochako offered her another path through the promise of giving her blood, by telling her that her authentic self was beautiful, that her love was genuine and worthy of being reciprocated. acceptance.

hawks failed to see another path when he confronted twice. he didn't come to the battlefield with the desire to communicate, he came with his weapons out to arrest twice, no discussion. he had another choice there, you know? to reach out with real friendship. but he didn't.

ochako has done what hawks could not. she's forged a deep emotional connection with toga. now, hawks has to provide the third option, where toga doesn't die, where she can live freely as herself without imprisonment.

i don't know how toga will be saved from death. but hawks... has the potential to give toga a new future. he was once the child of a villain, someone who had no other avenues in life, who was eventually taken captive by the hero institution and trained into a child soldier. ultimately, hawks is a kind soul. all hawks ever held in his heart was the desire to help others, a savior complex, but this was exploited to make him a false hero, a bird in a cage. after his mother left, he saw a way out, but the mentality still remains to go for the kill.

... because he's a "hawk". a name that taught him how to be a predator.

himiko is also a bird. she's associated with sparrow imagery. she has a free love for others; in another world, she would've liked to help them. as she is, she is happy that she lived as she wanted.

since she was young, society has treated her love as predatory, which left a lasting impression on her self-worth. it forced her into a cage, one that was impossible for her to live in, until she finally became a villain so that she could live freely.

hawks and toga are akin to each other. they've both dropped a person from great heights. but they're also not irredeemable.

and hawks killed twice, toga's friend. those two are bound to interact one more time, just for that. this time hawks has the option to spare toga.

hawks and toga are bound by twice's death, a murderer and the best friend of the person he murdered. so hawks has obligations he needs to fulfill towards toga, to even begin to make it up to her. saving her would be the first step. since toga now parallels twice in this situation, hawks is also arriving at his own reckoning, just like how endeavor had to finally engage with touya, reckon with his own actions as a father. like endeavor, he may be tempted to self-destruct alongside his victim, or... he's crucial to saving her.

it's also maybe the only way out of the cage for hawks, too. the way to rid himself of the influence his hero-soldier upbringing had on him. to possibly acknowledge, apologize or atone for his actions.

with his past, hawks might have the chance to give toga another option -- to live freely, either as a rehabilitating civilian or a hero. she would be able to stay by ochako's side, where, like the LoV, ochako would reciprocate her love and provide her acceptance and community.

either way, there's so much set up for a strong ending with toga, building off mha's themes of redemption, acceptance, reaching out not with violence but with care and understanding. killing toga permanently would wreck all the careful work that went into this narrative.

#bnha 395 #mha 395 #mha spoilers #togachako #hawks #mha #i love how these past few chapters have clicked like. MULTIPLE plotlines into place for me #crossposted #meta

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the-starryknight · 1 year

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Hey, I recently got back into writing drarry. I never really found a community on here (or anywhere 😅) to share that writing with, get encouragement, maybe a beta or some help with difficult scenes - anything. Do you have any advice?

I have a very stressful work schedule, so being online/replying everyday is hard for me. Maybe that is necessary to find people?

Hi my friend! Thank you for reaching out! I'd apologize for my slowness in responding, but maybe that's a perfect answer to your question. The short answer is: you're welcome here, with whatever time you have to share. We all have robost lives offline, and some spend more and less time around online than others. You're welcome here, even when you can't be online every day or be as responsive as some other folks might be.

In terms of practical advice, here are a few thoughts:

join the large 18+ Drarry discord (invite here). You can find beta readers and cheerleaders there (that's where I found my first when I didn't know anyone). I also like "sprinting" (writing in short, timed bursts, while other people write their own projects) as a way to build a little bit of community. EDIT: new link here

Post on tumblr when you can -- you could put out a call for betas here too. I'd also just suggest interacting when you can, reblogging other people, asking when ask games come up, joining in for open tag games, whenever you see them. Of course, when you're on less frequently some of these will pass you by, and that's okay -- just do them when you can and when they feel like fun.

Don't be afraid to jump into someone's messages or askbox to say hello. Mine is always open, as long as you're okay with a snail's pace of responses. I know that can be intimidating, but people around here are generally very kind and welcoming, and willing to say hello to new people.

Comment on fics and art, if/when you have the spoons. It's a great way to become more visible with active authors -- you could also ask authors or artists or reccers about their published projects to start up a conversation.

Share your writing and your interests! Whether in snippets, or in little anecdotes, or by reblogging things that feel connected to it and saying so in the tags or comments. It's much easier for other folks to engage with *you* if they have something they can ask about!

A couple other little tips I have found useful as I've grown less active in the past months: don't feel like you need to apologize for inactivity -- we all have lives, use the queue function on tumblr to space out your posts during times when you're not as active, ask folks what they're working on & they'll often turn it back to you, at times when you have more time to spare, offer help to others and they'll often offer it back... and so on!

anyway, this is long and rambly, and I'm sure my followers have other ideas to share. please feel free to hop into my DMs to say hello too! welcome back <3

#asked and answered #drarry #drarry authors #queue star

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the-one-who-lambs · 27 days

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Which scene from your fics do you like the most? like the one you can most vividly imagine clearly? can you describe it?

I CANNOT JUST PICK ONE but since my mind is on narilamb right now, I think my favorite scene at the moment is from a future chapter in The Risen Lamb and the Fallen God. "Ordinary Happiness is Not Enough" will be an entirely new chapter rather than a rewritten one. I'll keep some specific details to myself for now, but...

Bit o' spoilers below.

Lambert fell first, Narinder fell harder. This chapter is going to take place after Lambert realizes they're in love but before Narinder does.

Though they have the resurrection ritual at their disposal, Lambert had pretty much already come to terms with the fact that their immortal life would be a relatively lonely one. They are a god to their followers, after all, and despite their past attempts to connect with their followers on a more interpersonal level, none of them could fully get past the reverence for their leader. (This is also why, though they accept marriage requests from followers, they've never requested to marry a follower themself-- how could a follower fully distinguish their love for the Lamb from worshipping them as a duty? There has always been an uncomfortable amount of overlap.) Now that they've started to bond with someone who is immortal and on much more equal terms with them than any follower could be, that's suddenly not true anymore. Lambert can't quite fathom the idea that they're getting close to someone who they might be able to keep. This should be a comfort to them, but it ends up becoming more of a source of stress-- even though the two are in the "friends" stage of enemies to friends to lovers here, Narinder still has too many internal dilemmas to confront before he even considered himself capable of love in that way.

So Lambert sees Narinder as their one attainable chance to forge a relationship of equals. They've only recently realized their own feelings. They begin to overthink every interaction they have with him, trying too hard to steer Narinder towards favoring them, and they're not landing.

Lambert eventually snaps due to the stress and lashes out at him-- not for being obtuse, not for being callous, just the tipping point of their own insecurities, culminating in an overreaction to something not too hugely consequential. It gets so heated that Lambert tells him they might as well have just killed him from the start instead of sparing him. They do immediately feel shitty, but in the heat of the moment they're too stubborn to apologize.

Readers of the first installation of RL+FG may remember that Narinder, as a way to avoid confronting his own emotions, goes off on solo crusades. This is the first time he does that. This will later become a repeated occurrence that is extremely distressing to Lambert, because if he dies and they don't find his body to resurrect him... Well, they don't want to consider that possibility. For now, though, Lambert's still fuming. They figure, fine, let him burn himself out and he'll come crawling back here anyway.

What happens on his crusade will not dissuade him from venturing off again, because he's an idiot who's allergic to his own feelings, but he encounters a threat he's not prepared to face. He goes full demogorgon sicko mode but ultimately overestimates his own ability to rise to meet it.

The scene that won't leave my head is the aftermath. Lambert finds him bloody, delirious, on the cusp of death. They're in hysterics. In his delirious state, begins to reveal way too much about himself. He makes an apology and asks forgiveness. They realize at the wrong moment that he thinks he's talking to someone else. They hold each other, bitter and broken and bleeding and yearning in parallel. Lambert tends to his wounds but they have to patch their own themself.

They work the situation out because they want to but mostly because they have to. Lambert stitches his face back together. They've always handled him gently in a way that, more often than not, infuriated him, but this time they treat him as if he'll crumble to dust. It's an uncomfortable process, moreso emotionally to be this close again. They have difficult conversations about trauma and healing, family and forgiveness, the vanishing line between sainthood and sin. They did this to each other. It stays silent, but if it's going to hurt anyway, they'll love each other through it. They already do. Neither wants to think about messing this up, but for a while, they did. It can only get better from here, please, please, please.

(It does. But they both need to have their eternity threatened when almost starts to seem attainable.)

#hannah's rambles #cult of the lamb #There's. ALWAYS that one chapter you look forward to writing. Like I look forward to all of them #But I'm excited for this one specifically.#(the next chapter after that will be a more lighthearted one until Narinder Gets It.)#hannah writes #Yeah sure I'll put this in my writing tag

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nyctophiliq · 1 year

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Dear moss:

This is not exactly an ask, it's more of me wanting to know moss's thoughts/reactions about Sevika in these scenarios:

Sevika's interactions with an autistic reader?? Idk I'm autistic and I'm curious as to moss's feedback

Beauty and the Beast au, cuz I think this dinamic would be super wholesome and fluid yk

Sevika as a brothel madame, she'd probably kill it cuz she has the experience of working a business from taking care of things in the Shimmer industry and understands the necessary appeal cuz she's been a regular costumer at brothels for a while

Sevika's reaction to reader living with a therapy dog (I mostly had this curiosity cuz I'm looking to getting my dog certified :D)

If it happens to inspire any headcanons or something of the sort, I'd adore to read them but I'm curious as to how you react to these. Have a lovely weekend, I love moss's work. <33💗💗💗

Dear anonie,

thank you for all this, here are some of moss' thoughts on the scenarios that you gave !!!

autistic! reader - sevika would most certainly try to adapt to the way you feel most comfortable talking, receiving physical touch, or helping you stick to your schedule. she will kick anyone who is too loud in your presence and will make sure that the two of you don't get to the too crowded side of town. she will try her hardest, failing is not an option to trying to understand you. (moss apologizes if these are very dumbed down, they don't have too much experience with autistic people only their little cousin, please do tell moss if this section should be removed/rewritten in any way)

beauty and the beast - sevika fits right into this au not gonna lie, moss headcanons her as a thought cookie on an emotional level, not just physical so having a belle-like reader to soften her and get her in touch with her emotions would make an amazing story !

brothel madame! sevika - she would take care of her girls like they are her own daughters, not like they are pink piggy banks for her to take endless advantage of. working with men doesn't mean she can't be mean to them, so if anyone hurts any of you, she is right there to kick the costumers' asses and even permanently get rid of them if they cause big trouble. there is always a new marketing catch she has in mind to help the cash flow and for her girls to go home with plenty of money to spare.

reader's therapy dog - sevika would probably need lots of reminders of how to act around your therapy dog, not because she is an imbecile but because she is constantly afraid that she might do something that knocks your dog out of work mode and that might hurt you.

these are moss' thoughts, they can go a little deeper into them the next time if anyone would like! you too have a lovely weekend dearest anonie

moist wishes, moss <3

#✒️ › moss notes #📞 › moss' phone #sevika x reader #arcane x reader #sevika x reader smut

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modern-day-bard · 3 months

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Worth The Feeling

Content Warning: 18+ This series contains explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 18

The next few days were Italian and Javi-filled bliss. The daytime was spent following Dwayne around set, learning his key responsibilities. When he was occupied, my time was spent memorizing the rest of the production assistants' names and how to divvy up the workload. Thankfully, it was so busy on location that I was only able to be distracted by Javi a few times. There was a spark in the air when he was nearby, and I felt tingles across my skin before I made eye contact with him. We always kept it brief, glancing away before anyone would have the chance to spot us. But I always new that initial spark would be nothing compared to the molten look he gave me when we were alone. And each night since my apology, we spent together.

I kept telling Lana I was going on walks, and it was usually during her calls with Mia so she was partially distracted. And it wasn't really lying was it? I was going on a walk, just up to Javi's hotel room slash penthouse suite. Usually when I arrived, we would spare the conversation. The build of being in close proximity to each other while never truly being able to acknowledge how wild that made us was almost too much to handle. I don't think my clothes ever made it past the front entryway.

It is crazy to me that I thought I had had real sex before. I might have technically been performing the act, but that's how it always felt, like a performance. With Javi's warm touch, every lick of the flame coaxed me out of my shell and ignited every fiber of my being. There was nothing to think about except the sensational pleasure we could pull from each other. When we both finally came down from our mingled high, we would spend the next several hours talking about our days, both in the past and the present. We spoke of the parallels of missing home yet being enraptured with the energy of Los Angeles. We learned that we had both tried, and failed miserably, to join track in high school. I learned more about the love for his family, and his distaste for asparagus. And much to his amusement, he learned that I excelled at playing the recorder. He still insists that it is not a real instrument.

We were careful not to spend too long together. I would reluctantly tiptoe out of his room and return to mine before midnight like the smitten, horned-up Cinderella I was becoming. Lana was oftentimes asleep or on the brink of when I returned, which made things easier. For reasons I don't fully want to understand yet, I don't want to tell Lana everything. Her concern the other night about me falling too quickly or getting myself hurt wasn't a place I wanted to go. If we began that conversation again and I had to confront...anything, I was worried where it could take me. For now at least I could commit to living in this Italian, sunshine-filled bubble a while longer.

I walk into our room after another day's work, and my smile falters when Lana is sitting straight up on her bed, staring at the door, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Have you been expecting me, mob boss?" I joke, tossing my bag at the foot of my bed.

"I have something I need to discuss with you."

My stomach drops. I avoid eye contact with her, flopping on my bed and pulling my hair back to put into a ponytail.

"Yeah? What's that?"

"A huge mistake has been made." Lana's curls bounce as she crosses her arms over her chest, giving the impression of a principal scolding a pupil.

"I'm afraid I'm going to need another hint."

Now she tosses her arms up as if it's obvious. "We're more than halfway through the trip and we haven't checked anything off our list!"

A tsunami of relief washes over me, releasing a giggle out of my throat. "I wasn't aware we had a list."

"Yeah, well, we do. It's right here," She points to her head. "And I blame Mia for distracting me every night." Her words don't hold the conviction they were supposed to. "So, I say we choose one of the landmarks within walking distance and go tonight. We only have a few more nights here. What do you think?"

As always, her enthusiasm is contagious. I have a small ache in my heart over not seeing Javi tonight, and I make a mental note to text him to let him know I won't be coming up. However, we are in Italy. And contrary to popular belief, I haven't been exploring the streets of Milan every night.

"I'm in."

One squeal from Lana and one outfit change later and the two of us were on our way to the Poldi Pezzoli Museum. We make it a few blocks before I pull out my GPS app. The streets were beautiful, but my Italian was limited to dessert menu items. I truly had no idea where we were going, and Lana was too busy staring up toward the sky at the architecture, the picture of tourism. Not that I blame her.

"Don't you know the way?" She asks, "You've been walking around every night for almost a week."

I feel my cheeks flush, and I hope the setting sun hides most of the pigmentation.

"You know me, Lan. If I have my headphones in, I'm not paying attention to anything."

Lana laughs lightly, and I breathe my second sigh of relief for the evening.

We take our time walking to the museum. We stop at Teatro alla Scala on the way, basking in the glory of an opera house older than Los Angeles itself. I feel a pang of guilt for not exploring this city more while I have been here.

As we continue toward the museum I realize that we have four more nights in the city. There's both a pressure and a release taking in the sights. A pressure to see as much as I possibly can and experience everything to it's greatest capacity, and also a release of control. For so long, my fear of flying kept me back from experiencing places like this. Not that the budget totally allowed for it, but I feel like if I let my fear go, I would have made moves to make it happen. And now I'm here. I'm in a city that feels like a dreamland with my best friend by my side, and a phone in my pocket filled with messages from someone who makes me feel like it's possible for this dream to continue. As Lana and I peruse the art, creating a healthy balance of cracking jokes and admiration, I feel more alive than I have in months. Possibly in years.

We end the night with wine in gelato, taking both back to our room. After laughing over nothing for several minutes, we both take a phone break. With the wine making its way through my system, I feel more emboldened to text Javi beyond my initial apology for missing out tonight.

Me: Can you explain to me why we haven't been exploring the city together?

He replies not even two minutes later.

Javi: I feel like we were a bit too busy "exploring" upstairs.

Javi: But I didn't know that you wanted to. I'd be happy to take you around :)

I bite back a smile, not wanting Lana to notice.

Me: I like "exploring" with you ;) but maybe we could go in disgsuie

Me: Disguise*

Javi: Disguise huh? Did you and Lana have some drinks by any chance?

Me: Seriously? One type-o and now I'm a lush?

Me: Also, yes.

Javi: I knew it. Pick out a wig for me, and I'm all yours. Wherever you wanna go.

Me: All mine???

Javi: Absolutely.

Most of the time, I think this sort of thing would gross me out. But here I am, sitting on the edge of my bed, swinging my feet like a little kid. I can feel the flush on my face, but now at least I have the wine to blame for that.

I feel Lana's foot nudge mine from the end of her bed.

"What's going on with you, smiley?"

I release a bubbly, wine-induced giggle. "I think that I'm...happy?"

Lana beams, "Well, it looks good on you."

I lay back, placing my hands on my stomach, releasing a contented sigh. It feels good on me too.

- - -

I try to hide my smile the rest of the day after Javi's text the next morning.

Javi: For the disguise?

The text had an accompanying picture of several wigs from the hair and makeup trailer.

Me: Not sure if Norwick would be cool with funding our antics

Javi: I bet you could convince them ;)

I had made it most of the day with my smile in check, now politely nodding as Alice explains the most helpful position for Dwayne to be in and when. I suppose that will be my position shortly. The more I listen to her, the more I realize how involved Dwayne's position is, and how many people there really are working underneath him. I appreciate him a little more for remembering my name, and considering me to take over for him. Though there is so much to learn, I'm liking the idea of organizing the PAs, especially with my recent experience, I can keep them from taking on too much. I also get the opportunity to be under a tent most of the twelve-hour day, which in this Italian sunshine, I'm grateful for.

By the time Lana and I arrive back home, we are both sweaty and exhausted.

"Rock, paper, scissors for the first shower?" Lana asks.

"It's all yours," I say, flopping on top of my duvet.

"Ugh, thank you." She grabs her toiletry bag and shuffles into the tiny bathroom . I close my eyes, trying to calculate how much sleep I've had in the past few days. I feel more tired at the end of today than I have in most of my years of working in L.A. So tired that I almost feel nauseous, and that's without running around as much as usual. Maybe the jet lag is catching up with me.

My thoughts are halted by a quick rapping on the door of my hotel room. I groan quietly to myself before rolling off the bed and making my way toward the door. I'm assuming it's housekeeping, but we had our 'do not disturb' hanger on our door. Javi most likely wouldn't come down now that he knew Lana was here, and he would have at least texted first. I also thought I overheard Alice talking about a cast dinner tonight to celebrate one of our last nights in Italy. Lloyd and Alice were both invited, and I'm assuming most of the cast would feel obligated to attend. Even without these facts, I would still be completely taken aback by who I see standing behind the peephole.

"Hey, Ava," Blake drawls through a sly smile as I open the door.

"Hi Blake...everything okay?" He looks like he's dressed for dinner in black dress pants and a gray button down. Much too fancy compared to the t-shirt and jeans most actors wear arriving to and from set.

"Absolutely. I was wondering if I could escort you to dinner?"

"Oh," I don't think I hide my shock very well, "Thank you, but I believe that's just for the cast. The crew members are all going to bed." I let out a nervous laugh. Why did him coming down here make me so nervous? I had barely even seen him around since the last time we spoke. I didn't feel nervous then. Granted I was motivated by my jealousy over Javi and Emma.

"Really? Well that's too bad..." Blake leans his hand on the doorway. "I had some questions I wanted to ask you."

Something about his smile and his tone is making my already nauseous stomach twist into knots.

"Blake, I don't want to be rude, but I need to be up early tomorrow. Would it be alright if you asked me or another PA those questions then?" I keep my tone bright, but I'm watching his face skeptically.

"That's the thing, Ava. You've already been pretty rude." He presses in the doorway now, and I take an involuntary step back to avoid the space between us growing any smaller.

"I'm sorry?" I almost scoff.

"You've been avoiding me all week. I thought I was going to give you some lessons." He wiggles his eyebrows, and bile rises up in my throat.

"I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression but–"

Blake starts laughing quietly. "I don't have the wrong impression. And we're only shooting together for a couple more days." Blake has one hand on the door, propping it open, and the other resting on the frame. I've cowered back so much that he is craning his body down to whisper near my ear. "Wouldn't you want to experience all this place has to offer?"

I want to run, but I worry that would provoke him. I don't smell alcohol on his breath, but he is behaving like all his inhibitions have left him. All that is left is his ego and that rueful smile. So I just stay put, frozen, as he pulls back so that his forehead is almost resting on mine.

"C'mon, Ava. I know you like me in a suit."

"B-blake. You are making me uncomfortable," I manage with a shaky voice.

"Don't be a tease," His eyes heat with anger. His hand moves from the doorframe, and everything in my body screams out at me to run. Where would I go? Could I get past him into the hallway and make it to the stairs? I can't run back into my room. My window is too high to jump from. I feel his lanky fingers wrap around my waist, and I open my mouth. To what? Scream? I'm not sure I remember how. Is that too dramatic a reaction? The look on his face really does make me believe I'm going to be sick.

I have never in my life been so happy to hear the tiny bathroom door squeak open. Lana's confused expression meets my frightened one, and I can tell instantly that she understands.

"What's going on here?" She asks harshly.

Blake is startled backward, his hand leaving my waist to my relief. Maybe he didn't realize crew members have to share hotel rooms.

"I didn't know you had a guest." Blake keeps his smooth tone, but his eyes are searching for an explanation to his behavior.

"I'm not a guest. This is my room," She crosses her arms over her chest,"Do you need us to call hotel services for you or something? We're off the clock." Lana's brow is tilted upward, and despite the fact that her hair is in a towel, she might as well have been an executioner with her icy demeanor.

Blake lets out one, humorless laugh. "No, I don't need hotel services. I was just inviting Ava to dinner."

"Okay, we ate already. I guess you better leave so don't miss your reservations, huh?"

Blake's incredulous blue eyes dart between the two of us, clearly weighing his response.

"I suppose so," He hisses. "I guess I will save my questions for tomorrow." My heart drops to my stomach when he says that. "Have a good night ladies," He says, pulling the door shut behind him.

I slump against the wall, not sure if I want to vomit or cry. Lana stands still in the doorway of the bathroom, gauging my reaction. After a few moments, she moves to peek through the peephole.

"He's gone."

When she turns toward me, all of the iciness melted into concern, my eyes spring with tears.

"Did he–"

"No." I shake my head quickly. "Nothing really happened, he just grabbed my waist."

"But it was scary." She wasn't asking.

I nodded, a couple of tears sliding down my cheeks. "I...I messed up. I flirted with him the other day. Apparently I gave him all of those... ideas." The exhaustion of the day hits me again, the events of the past few minutes adding significant weight, and I sink to the floor. Lana sits next to me, crossing her legs the same way I did.

"Did you tell him to come to the room?" Lana asks gently.

"No. I told him to give me Italian lessons. I said he looked good in a suit." I roll my eyes, more tears forming. "There also was something about getting a drink sometime."

"Did you tell him to touch you?"

"Absolutely not." "Right. So you didn't give him any of those ideas. He came up with that bullshit all on his own."

I nod, keeping my eyes on the floor.

"Do you want to report him? We could talk to Lloyd or the union."

I take a deep breath, thinking it through. "No. We only have to work with him for another two days. He was only here for the location stuff."

Lana wraps an arm around my shoulders, "Okay. If you change your mind, you let me know. I'll go with you. I saw enough to corroborate your story, too."

Now I'm really crying. Lana holds me as I sniffle, and we stay like this for several minutes.

"Lana? There's more...the reason I was flirting with Blake."

"Oh, it wasn't his obviously charming personality that attracted you?"

I chuckle, dropping my head on her shoulder. "Shocking, I know. But no... I was trying to make Javi jealous." I'm glad that I can't see her face sitting like this. "It was super childish and I apologized to him. But Lans there's so much that's been going on. So much I haven't told you. And after that, I wonder if I've been ignoring how dangerous this could be. How much trouble I could get into."

Lana doesn't speak for a few moments, but her arm still remains wrapped around my shoulders.

"I figured. Not about the Blake thing, I had no idea. But somewhere between the wet bathing suit and all of your evening walks I felt like there was something more."

I pull back to look at her. She isn't angry, but she looks just as concerned as she did earlier.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Her smile is kind. "You could tell me now," She says with a squeeze of my shoulders.

I nod, sitting up straight and wiping the tears off my face. We move to the beds and I explain the missing pieces of these past few weeks. My surprise at my own jealousy, my mistake with Blake, my apology to Javi and some of the details of our first time. To Lana's credit, this is the most quiet she's been during any of my stories. She knew some of this, like our first date and how upset I'd been when we took a break. But even through her silence, I can tell by her eyes that she is shocked. When I get us caught up to today, I let out a breath, and wait for her reaction.

"So, to be clear, he is trying to protect your career, right?"

I nod. "And I want to protect his."

"And there isn't any part of you that thinks he's lying to purposely keep you under the radar?"

I resist rolling my eyes, "Not at all. I'm telling you Lana, it's different. He's kind. I just...I don't know, I just know."

Lana considers this, taking her hair down from her towel.

"I meant what I said before. You should be careful, feelings-wise." She sounds like a school teacher, but I can tell she has conceded in whatever further lecture she wanted to give me before.

I smile at her, and she slowly shakes her head. "Ava, leave it to you to choose the most complicated situationship possible as your first post-breakup fling."

I grab my pajamas out of my suitcase and finally head for the shower.

"That's just it, Lans," I say before closing the door, "I don't think it's a fling."

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